


Keep My Feet on the Ground

by Revans_Mask



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Support, F/F, Friendship, Romance, Smut, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 39,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revans_Mask/pseuds/Revans_Mask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herah Adaar was just another outcast Qunari mercenary until gaining the mark.  It's a good thing she's got new friends, and maybe the love of a foul-mouthed elf to see her through this mess.  A series of short pieces mostly covering  off-screen moments during Dragon Age: Inquisition and featuring an eventual Female Inquisitor/Sera romance, plus some Hawke/Merill and Warden/Leliana.  Some chapters will definitely be smutty and there will be spoilers for all 3 games.</p><p>Update: Now with all-new Trespasser content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unlikely Heroes

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Herah Adaar slumped down, taking a seat on the low wall next to Varric’s tent and burying her face in her powerful hands. Even seated, she remained taller than the dwarf, but right then, she wished their roles could be reversed. She’d get to be the easily over-looked jester and Varric, well, he could take a shot at being whatever it was that people thought she was.

"What do you mean, Horns?” From somebody else, the nick-name could have seemed mean-spirited, but even though they hadn’t known each other very long, Herah could tell that wasn’t his way. Unlike most of the people here at Haven, Varric knew what it was like to be marked as an outsider by your appearance.

"I mean, what am I going to do about this?” She held up her hand and the green energy of the mark sparked into existence, her body tingling as the electricity ran up and down it’s length. “Or them?” She swiveled her head, indicating the people that filled the growing camp: soldiers and refugees, farmers and spies, all of them looking to her for answers she didn’t have.

“They think that Andraste gave me this thing. That I’m her Herald or something. That I’m going to save all of them from that…” She tiled her horned head up, looking at the massive, angry hole that rent the sky above them.

"You need a hero to fix that. Not somebody like me. I’m…” She sighed heavily. “You know what I am, Varric? I’m a mercenary. You need something guarded, some bandits run off your land, that’s what I’m good at.” A rueful grin appeared on her face and she laughed bitterly. “All I want at the end of the day is my head on my shoulders and some coins in my pocket. To find someplace where I can have a few drinks, play a few hands of Wicked Grace, and maybe meet a nice tavern maid who wants a girl like me to share her bed for a little while. And I’m supposed to be the one who saves the world?”

The dwarf nodded, seemingly unperturbed by her rant. “Well, what do you think somebody who does that looks like?”, he asked

She threw up her hands in frustration. She suspected the question was a trap, but it was one who’s outlines she couldn’t quite see yet. “I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. “Like the Hero of Ferelden maybe. Somebody who throws lightning out of her fingertips and kills Archdemons. Not a qunari merc with a couple of knives. Most people see someone who looks like me, they run, or hide, or call me a cow. And now I’m supposed to be their messiah? Does that make any sense to you?”

"Can’t say I ever met the Hero of Ferelden,” Varric admitted. “If you want to hear the stories about her, you’ll have to ask Leliana. Rumor around the campfires is that they used to be close. But I knew somebody else that people called a hero and let me tell you, they’re a lot more complicated up close. Don’t get me wrong, Horns, Hawke definitely knew her business in a fight, but she didn’t exactly start out as the Champion of Kirkwall you hear about in all the tales. When I met her, she was just another refugee from Lothering with barely two silvers to rub together, and those were in the process of being stolen. Her, and her mom, and her brother were all living in this hovel in Lowtown that belonged to her cheat of an uncle, and she was doing odd jobs for some smuggler. A year later, she’s set up in a mansion in Hightown, and a few more after that, there’s a giant statue of her in the middle of town.”

"And a few more years after that, the city’s a smoking wreck and Hawke’s on the run from the Templers. That’s not exactly the most encouraging example right now.” Herah had never been to Kirkwall herself, but everyone knew the stories about what had happened there: how a rogue mage destroyed the Chantry and killed the Grand Cleric, how Hawke had fought to defend the rest of the Circle from Knight-Commander Meredith’s wrath, how the war that followed had engulfed half of Thedas.

"Okay, things got a little ugly there at the end,” Varric admitted. “But that wasn’t Hawke’s fault. She saved the city from a qunari attack, killed demons, hunted down crazy necromancers, and did about a hundred other things even I couldn’t make up. Sure, she could do a bit of the lightning throwing, but you’ve got that trick with your hand going for you instead. Sort of evens things out, I suppose. My point is, heroes don’t always look like heroes at the start of the story. It’s the becoming that makes for a good yarn.”

Herah got to her feet, stretching her long legs. She had to admit that Varric had a point, but she still wasn’t entirely sold yet. “Does it matter that I don’t know if I can do it?”, she asked. “That I don’t even know if I believe in Andraste, let alone that she made me her Herald?”

"Why should it?”, the dwarf asked with a wry smile. “Most of my best stories, I don’t believe either.”


	2. Aid and Comfort

“Hello, Herah.”

Herah Adaar moved surprisingly quietly for someone her size, but Leliana could still pick out the sound of the qunari’s footsteps as they entered her tent and without looking up from her papers, she greeted the woman who had recently become central to the fortunes of the newly-reformed Inquisition.

"Hey. I was wondering if you had a few minutes to chat.”

"Of course. Is there something you need help with?”

"Sort of.” Herah paused, sounding unsure of herself, something she had seemed to be frequently since her survival in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. “They say you knew the Hero of Ferelden,” the mercenary said, her words somewhere between a question and a statement.

"Is that what they say?” Leliana turned and slid down the hood of her cloak, favoring Herah with a mischievous smile.

"It is. Among other things,” Herah riposted, a matching smile now on her face. The woman seemed to enjoy a good verbal back-and-forth almost as much as Varric, a fact that had come as a surprise to Leliana. A sense of humor was not something she associated with qunari.

"Really? Such as what?”

"That you’re a bard,” Herah told her with a chuckle. “Or an assassin. Or a priest thrown out of the chantry for deeds too dark to speak of. That you sleep with two knives under your pillow and traps around your bed. That you were the Hero’s lover. Or maybe the Divine’s. Or both.”

She laughed back. For those in her business, a colorful reputation came with the territory. “That is quite a lot for one woman to be up to.”

"Well, let’s just say that your past is an especially popular topic of conversation around the campfires here,” Herah explained. “It’s not like anyone thinks Cassandra or Cullen gets up to much worth gossiping about.”

"One should not be too quick to assume such things,” the bard replied with a sly smile, “But to answer your question, yes, I did know the Hero of Ferelden.”

"Were you two close?”

"Close?” _Slim hands that normally dispense lighting and ice run over her chest before dipping down between her bare thighs. It’s a different kind of magic Nissa is performing now, but one no less remarkable then that she wields against the Darkspawn. Leliana’s body sings under her Warden’s touch, her back arching, her skin flush with heat. Later, she’ll repay every caress, every pleasure in full, but for now, she just lets herself be lost in the mage’s passion._

Leliana drew in a long breath, trying to shake off the memory, hoping that the dim light of the tent had hid the blush of arousal it brought to her body. “Yes, we were,” she agreed. “That, at least, is one thing that rumor has right.”

"One thing, huh?” Herah cocked an eyebrow. “What about the rest of the stories?”

"There is truth in some of them, perhaps. But only some. In any event, what did you want to know about the Warden?” Leliana always thought of her as Nissa, but she had grown so accustomed to hearing others call her lover by her many titles that they came easily to her full lips.

“I guess I want to know how she did it”, Herah explained. “Look, I was in Ferelden at the tail end of the Blight. It was all our company could do just to stay alive in the middle of all that madness. I can’t imagine how you’d actually stop it. And now, out there in the Hinterlands, it’s like the Blight’s happening all over again. The mages and the Templers were tearing everything apart even before the rifts started appearing, and now you throw in these damn demons… Where do you even start?”

Herah sounds overwhelmed as she asks the question and it reminds Leliana of Nissa at the beginning, of they way she was when they first met at that inn in Lothering. The warden had tried to put on a brave face, to act like the world didn’t weigh quite so heavily on her shoulders, but as practiced an observer as Leliana had known better. Nissa had made mistakes back them, some small losses of temper, others darker choices that, wherever she is, Leliana knows still bother her beloved. Now, Herah is in much the same position, and the bard hoped she could find some way to help her navigate her way through the fog with fewer regrets.

"You begin with the people in front of you,” Leliana told her. “When Nissa and I travelled together…” At the mention of her warden’s name, Herah looked surprised, and the bard added, “She was not always the Hero of Ferelden, you know. She does have a proper name, even if it is rarely used these days.”

The qunari chuckled and Leliana continued, “When we travelled together, we knew where it would end, that some day, we would have to face the Arch-demon and its horde. But the in-between, the gathering of the army that made defeating it possible, was often a twisted path. As we walked it though, Nissa tried her best to make right the things that we found awry. The boy separated from his family in Redcliff Village. The dwarf girl who dreamed of leaving her home and studying magic. The qunari looking for his lost sword. The deeds that make up the legends are built atop those little moments.”

Herah nodded her head, her dark mood seeming to break at least for the moment. “Thanks. That’s… I guess it’s someplace to start. There’s no shortage of people who need our help out there, that’s for sure. One thing though… The qunari who lost his sword? What was that all about?”

"That was a favor for a friend actually. Sten was a qunari warrior who fought with us against the Blight. He had… misplaced the blade in a battle with the Darkspawn.”

Herah drew one of her daggers and flipped it casually through her powerful but clearly dexterous fingers as she reflected, “It’s nice to know I’m not going to be the first qunari to go and do something so crazy as try to save the world.”

"No,” Leliana agreed. “And even if you were, what of it? Nissa was both an elf and a mage, a combination most people would find even more unlikely in a hero. We are all the Maker’s children and he has a plan for each of us.”

"Do you really believe that?”, Herah asked, holding up the hand with her mark. “That I’m Andraste’s Herald? That this is part of some divine plan?”

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I believe that the Maker has a plan, but long ago, I realized that it is not for me to know its details. I do think that what happened to you happened for a reason, though.”

"I hope you’re right,” Herah told her, re-sheathing her dagger and patting the bard on the shoulder, “But either way, I’m lucky to have you here helping me out.”

The qunari turned to leave, and Leliana smiled at her departing form. Even if it was not the hand of the Maker behind Herah’s selection as the bearer of this mark, it was the Inquisition who were the lucky ones, the bard reflected. There was a good deal to be said for the woman whom fate or chance had selected to aid them in this dark hour. The qunari was brave, and capable, and had a good heart. True, she was innocent in many of the things she would need to know in the days ahead, but Leliana would be by her side to guide her. She had already lost one of the women she served under, and failed a second. This time, she vowed she would do better.


	3. Diversionary Tactics

"Good evening, my lady.” Josephine Montilyet smiled warmly when she said the words, rising from her desk to greet Herah as she walked into the small office where the Antivan beauty did her work on behalf of the Inquisition.

"No need to get up,” the qunari reassured her. “I’m not here on business. In fact, I brought wine if you have the time for a drink.” She set down a bottle of a pretty good Orleasian red she’d scrounged up on the desk along with a pair of cups.

"Much of my business is conducted over wine,” Josephine said, mischief shining in her light brown eyes. “But I would love to have a drink with you regardless. Is there something in particular we are celebrating, aside from your safe return to Haven?”

Herah opened the bottle and poured out two generous cups, offering one to the diplomat before taking the other for herself. “Tonight, being alive and in one piece is reason enough,” she said with a small smile she only half felt. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

Longer than most knew. Her trip through time, if that’s what it had truly been, had shaken the qunari more than anything since the day she survived the creation of the Breach. Normally, she might have turned to Varric or Leliana for company, but both of them had been in the horrible future she’d just glimpsed, and neither needed the cold Haven night further chilled by hearing tale of their fates.

Josephine nodded sympathetically. “I am sure it has, my lady. We have all been praying for your return from Redcliff and to see you arrive, not only safe but at the head of the mages was truly a relief.”

The qunari returned a smile, enjoying a long drink of her wine as she took in the moment. All her life, people like Josephine had looked right through her, if they thought to look at all. Her race, her social class, and her profession: all of them had marked her as less then them. Now, because of a very different sort of mark, that had all changed. Now, a beautiful, highborn woman like Josephine would gladly share a cup of wine with her, and banter, and tell her how happy she was that Herah was all right.

Indeed, the Antivan seemed to enjoy flirting with her, at times offering playful smiles and sly glances that made the putative Herald’s pulse quicken. Whether those little gestures meant anything the qunari was less sure of. The dances of the nobility were a lot subtler than the ones she knew from camps and taverns, and she wasn’t sure whether Josephine was humoring Herah or perhaps amusing herself. Right then, though, she didn’t care. After what she’d been through, it was just nice to spend time in pleasant, witty company.

"Well, I would’ve hated to disappoint a beautiful woman”, she teased.

The diplomat took a sip of her own wine. “You are too, kind my lady. I am hardly the only beauty here in Haven.”

Herah raised an eyebrow suggestively. “We’ll have to make a list some time.”

"Doubtless.” The Antivan laughed, before turning to a more serious topic. “If I may be so bold as to inquire, my lady, what precisely happened on your trip to Redcliff? The reports I heard were most confusing. Leliana said that you and the Tevinter mage, Dorian disappeared into a rift of some kind and reappeared moments later, but more than that, I do not know.”

The rogue sighed, weighing how many details she should share of the nightmare she had only barely escaped from. “I saw a glimpse of what happens if we fail,” she finally decided to tell Josephine. “Let’s just say it’s not pretty. Demons everyone, the rifts out of control, not to mention a decided shortage of beautiful women.”

"I suppose we will just have to succeed then,” Josephine told her with a smile that didn’t waver. “But surely it will not come to that,” she added hopefully. “We have the allegiance of the rebel mages, and soon you can try and seal the Breach for good.”

"True, but that doesn’t mean it’ll work,” Herah pointed out, pouring herself a second glass of the wine. It was quite good, the sort of rich vintage that she used to only be able to afford as a treat, but it had suddenly become a deal harder for her to enjoy it properly. “Besides, there’s more to this than just the Breach. Whoever was behind its creation is still out there.”

Josephine cocked her head. “The Venatori, you mean?”

"Probably them, yeah, but I don’t think they’re just the usual clique of rogue mages. They have some leader, the Elder One.”

"Oh, such secret societies are often fond of portentous titles,” Josephine pointed out. “I have heard of the Silent Master, the Supreme Guide, the Exalted Hierophant, and many others, none nearly so formidable as their affectations would lead you to believe.”

"Maybe.” Herah shook her head. “I think this guy may be different. Alexius is a powerful magister, and he seemed terrified of failing him.”

"Speaking of Alexius,” Josephine queried, “I am surprised you showed him mercy. Surely his crimes merited death.”

"Probably.” Herah finished off her second glass of wine while she weighed the inquiry. “I’ll admit, I’m still not comfortable with deciding life and death like that. I mean, I’ve killed plenty of people but it’s different on the battlefield. When both of us have a weapon in hand, that’s fair. May the best man win, right? This business of sitting in the big chair, passing judgment on someone who can’t fight back, it’s harder to stomach.”

"For what it’s worth,” Josephine replied, “I think your unease speaks well of you. For many a nobleman, the opposite is true. They find it is all too easy to take a life as long as they need not risk their own necks or bloody their own hands when they do it. I think such an attitude can make one callous.”

"I appreciate that.” Herah rose from her chair, suppressing a yawn as she did. “And the company as well, but do I think I’d better get to bed. Like I said, it’s been a long few days.”

"Of course, my lady,” Josephine replied, adding, “There is no need for you to do that,” as the qunari began picking up their empty cups. “I can get one of the servants to take care of those after you go.”

"It’s all right,” Herah told the Antivan noblewoman, “I don’t mind doing it myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a quick side-note, when I did the play-through this story is based on, I ended up missing Sera until after In Your Heart, You Shall Burn, which is why she hasn’t turned up yet. However, I actually think it worked out quite nicely, giving Herah time to flirt with Josephine first, and set up some dynamics you’ll see in the chapters to come.


	4. The Weight of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so geeked out when the Inquisitor met Hawke, and I wanted to write a version of that scene that added some more details from my own Champion's story.

“Commander, will they follow?”

Cassandra’s voice rang out across the massive courtyard of Skyhold, her question implicitly addressed not just to Commander Cullen, but to the throngs gathered all around the former Templar.

“Inquisition, will you follow?”

It was Cullen who made the question explicit, but even before the people answered, Herah already knew what their response would be. She had known ever since the night in the mountains when all that remained of the Inquisition had joined in Mother Giselle’s song, and the qunari was not in the least surprised when the crowd roared with approval, giving an affirmation without the need for words.

“Will you fight?”

They cheered once again, and of their resolve Herah had no doubt, not anymore. Whatever could be said of this group, they were not about to surrender. At Haven, an army of monsters led by a creature out of the darkest legends had destroyed their home, and after persevering in the face of that evil, they were not about to give up.

“Will we triumph?”

That was a much harder question to answer, not that one would know it from the answering roar. Whatever the people following her might think, Herah honestly had no idea how they were going to defeat Corypheus. Dealing with the Breech had been hard enough, but going up against this magister, something powerful enough to tear the world asunder… Only a madwoman wouldn’t have her doubts, and the qunari liked to think she hadn’t gone mad just yet.

“Your leader!”

It was her responsibility to do just that though, and at Cullen’s words, the crowd turned their attention to her. Whether she knew what she was doing or not, these people expected her to be the one to guide them through the darkness.

“Your Herald!”

Even though she wasn’t really the Herald of Andraste. Before the attack on Haven, Herah had had her fair share of doubts, but now, she knew for sure. The mark on her hand didn’t come from the Maker; it was just a piece of Corypheus’ magic that had somehow latched onto her when the Temple of Sacred Ashes was destroyed. She was no messiah, only a qunari mercenary doing the best she could.

“Your Inquisitor!”

Except they didn’t need to hear that. These people needed her to be their leader, their Herald, and their Inquisitor, and that’s what she intended to be. It might not make sense, but right now, there was no one else who could take her place.

Cullen raised his sword to salute her, and hefting the massive blade she had been handed only moments earlier, Herah returned the gesture. The blade was much too big for the dagger-wielding qunari to use effectively in battle, but she understood now that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it looked the kind of sword an Inquisitor should hold, and that’s what Herah had to be: the strong leader these people needed, no matter what she believed, no matter what it cost her.

 

“Inquisitor, meet Ella Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.”

Varric got out of the way as Herah approached, giving the rogue her first good look at the woman she’d heard so much about. For one thing, she was short, even compared to what a qunari got used to when dealing with humans. Cuter than Herah would’ve expected too, with her pure white hair tied back into a long braid, but the qunari knew better than to underestimate a mage, particular one with as impressive a reputation as Hawke.

“You know I don’t use that title very much any more,” the Champion pointed out to her friend, who added, “Hawke, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him after all.”

The dwarf headed off to the other side of the battlements, leaving the newly minted Inquisitor standing next to the Champion. “We didn’t just fight him,” Hawke told her, “We killed him. Trust me, I know from dead, and this guy was dead.” She shook her head. “It must have been some kind of Tevinter magic or a trick of the Taint, maybe. If I’d realized we were letting him escape…”   Herah could hear in Hawke’s voice the same weight she was starting to become accustomed to, and the qunari found something reassuring about having someone else who knew about kind of burden there with her.

“How’d you end up fighting him in the first place?”, she asked. “Varric was a little vague on the details.”

“I guess you could say it was a family obligation,” Hawke explained. “Years ago, my father was pressured by the Grey Wardens into helping them strengthen the wards that bound Corypheus underground. Malcolm Hawke’s blood was used as part of the rituals that reinforced the seals, which meant it could also be used to break them. That or the blood of his family, which was why these crazy dwarven cultists came after me and my brother, Carver. I tracked them back to the prison, but then we got stuck inside. I figured just killing Corypheus was the best answer to the problem.” Hawke sighed. “Clearly, I figured wrong, but there were people I cared about with me in there, and it seemed like the only way we wouldn’t be trapped forever.”

“About those people you were with,” Herah asked, “Varric said you two were part of a whole group back in Kirkwall. What happened to them? Can they help us fight Corypheus again?”

The mage shook her head, a wistful look evident in her blue eyes. “Most of them aren’t really around anymore. After the Kirkwall Chantry was destroyed, we ended up going our separate ways. I didn’t want them to become targets because of my choices, though I guess that didn’t work out so well for Varric, since Cassandra grabbed him up anyway.”

"Oh, he seems to be doing all right,” Herah laughed. “Frankly, I think he’s starting to grow on her.”

"He is good at that,” Hawke agreed, a small smile breaking through her gloom. “As for the rest, Fenris is off fighting Tevinter slavers, Sebastian went back to rule Starkhaven, and Aveline’s still in Kirkwall, trying her best to clean up the mess we left behind. And Anders, well...”

"What was he like? I’ve heard stories…”

"Compassionate. Angry. Fanatical. Deceitful.” Herah can hear the resentment building in Hawke’s voice as she recalls the infamous apostate. “He’d told me he was gathering components for a ritual to remove the spirit of justice from his soul, but they were actually for the weapon he used on the Chantry.” She tilted her head to the sky thoughtfully. “I don’t think there was much left of the man he’d been by the end,” she offered. “Or maybe that’s what I tell myself. Maybe he’d been that monster all along and I just didn’t see it. Either way though, he had to be put down. I’d helped him, even if I didn’t know it at the time, and I had to stop him from hurting anybody else.”

Herah looked out over the battlement at the people of the Inquisition going about their business far below the two women. Would she face a decision like that some day? Would one of them put her in that kind of position? Maker, she hoped not. This job looked to be hard enough already. “What about Merrill?”, she asked, wanting to change the subject from one that obviously pained Hawke, “Varric said you two were especially close.”

Hawke chuckled. “Did he now? He must trust you to have given up that much. But yes, we were involved. We still are, really, but she’s with her people right now, helping to keep them out of the way of this mess with Corypheus. I’ve put her in enough danger already.”

"And your brother, Carver? I heard he was a Templar.”

"Back when there were Templars he was. He stayed behind in Kirkwall with Aveline at first, but I had her move him out of the Free Marches when this all started.” She grinned, a mischievous note shining through in her smile. “He’s probably mad at me for that like always, but I’m still his big sister and this is going to get messy.”

"It already has. Which part did you have in mind specifically?”

She laughed. “Oh, all of it, I suspect. But right now, I’m mostly worried about the missing Grey Wardens. Let me fill you in…”


	5. Mutton and Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at last, our potential love interest arrives on the scene.

“So, you’re really the head of the whole Inquisition?” Sera looked Herah up and down as she asked the question, her green eyes seeming to take in all of the seated qunari.

"Yup, I really am,” the woman in question agreed, giving Sera a crooked smile along with her answer. “Why? I am not what you were expecting?”

"Heard about you,” Sera replied, “But didn’t quite believe it. I mean, you’re, you know, a qunari, yeah.”

"So I’ve been told,” she laughed.   “Is that a problem?”

"Nah, no problem,” Sera said quickly, “I mean, really not a problem. I just didn’t think all the fancy-pants let people like you get jobs like that.”

Herah didn’t reply at first, letting the elf’s words linger in the cool night air. They were a day out of Val Royeaux on their way back to Skyhold and this was the first time she’d really had a chance to talk with the newest member of the Inquisition. Honestly, camp was one of the few places she still felt she could talk to anyone like a regular person. Sitting around an autumn fire, sharing a meal, her new title didn’t weight quite so heavily on every conversation as it did elsewhere.

"May I assume that by ‘fancy-pants,’ you are referring to me?”, Cassandra interjected, taking a bite out of the pleasingly juicy mutton that was their night’s meal.

"Well, yeah,” Sera agreed. “I mean, your pants aren’t that nice right now, but even though you dress like real people, I can tell. Voice and all that shit. You grew up in a mansion, am I right?”

"You are,” Cassandra conceded, “But I really wish you would not make further assumptions about me on that basis. I, and the other members of the Inquisition, selected Herah to be our leader because she was the best choice for the role. I would not have let petty concerns about her background prevent me from doing that.”

"There is the little matter of the mark on my hand,” Herah teased before helping herself to a swig of wine from her skin. “Somehow, I think that if someone else was carrying that around, they’d be the one with this gig.”

"Perhaps. But I do not believe it is an accident that you are the one who bears it. There was purpose in this selection.”

Herah sighed inwardly. Even if she no longer believed that the Maker or Andraste had chosen her, plenty of others needed to think it was so, or at least that it could be. “You might be right,” she replied non-committally while returning to her mutton.

"Maker’s got good taste, then,” Sera opined cheerfully, giving Herah another long glance, this one more unreservedly approving. “I mean, look at you, all tall and built, and… yeah, definitely good choice,” the elf trailed off.

"I’m sure he’s glad you approve,” Dorian told Sera with a smile, the Tevinter mage reappearing from out of the shadows at the edge of the camp. “The wards are set,” he told Herah. “We should be able to get through the night without being surprised by the Red Templars at the very least.”

"Wards? You mean like magic?”, Sera asked, a note of anxiety creeping into her voice. “We’re going to sleep with magic all around us.”

"I wouldn’t worry about it, my dear,” Dorian assured her. “They’re perfectly safe. Only intruders can trigger them, not the people inside.”

"Still don’t like it.” Herah shrugged apologetically, and Sera gave a little annoyed pout when she realized the wards weren’t going anywhere. “Fine,” she declared, “Going to sleep now.” She shot Dorian a disapproving look. “Don’t go putting any magic in my tent.”

"I wouldn’t dream of it,” the mage told her with a wry smile.

Sera headed off to her tent, and Herah turned back to Cassandra and Dorian, offering the mage his own skin of wine as he joined them around the fire. “So, what do you think of our newest recruit?”, she asked her two companions. “She seems colorful, certainly.” Not that the rest of their group was exactly bland. Even with all her years of mercenary experience, Herah had never been around quite such an unusual collection of individuals.

"I am not certain,” Cassandra replied, her tone as blunt as ever. “I agree she has skills and connections that could be useful to our cause, but I am not sure that she is a good fit with the image we wish to present.”

"Since when are you concerned with appearances?”, Dorian asked mischievously. “Certainly not when you had your hair styled like that.”

Cassandra glared at the mage before continuing, “The Inquisition is only now starting to convince the Chantry and much of the nobility of Thedas that we are not a dangerous, subversive force. I only worry that this Sera may undermine that, given that she is, in fact, a subversive.”

"Hey, I like your hair,” Herah told the Seeker, finishing off her wine.

"And I like Sera,” Dorian offered. “I agree she may not be the sort of girl you bring to the Autumn Fete in Minrathous, but that doesn’t mean we won’t need people from her part of town to win this war.” He paused, reflecting on his previous statement. “On second thought, it really might not be the worst idea to bring her there. Two years ago, people said Magister Trajan drank from that poisoned chalice just to break the tedium of listening to Lady Liviella taking about her orchids for three hours straight.”

"And you wonder why I cut my hair and left that life in favor of serving the Chantry,” Cassandra remarked with a derisive snort, evidently pleased to turn the mage’s earlier jape back on him.

"Come now,” Dorian smirked, “I think you might look quite fetching in an imperial ball gown, something with three or four tiers of ruffles, and one of those intricate tableaux necklaces that were so fashionable last year.”

"Now you are merely making fun of me,” Cassandra insisted. “If you really felt that way, you would be back in the Imperium playing dress-up instead of here serving the Inquisition.” A weary yawn escaped the Seeker’s mouth, and when it finished, she stood up. “I think it may be time for me to turn in as well. We have a long road ahead of us and we need to make good time back to Skyhold. There is much to do before we are ready to assault Adamant Fortress.

"True enough,” Herah agreed, rising from the log she’d been sitting on. Her bedroll was sounding pretty good to her to right then, but even as she left the fire, she looked in the directly of Sera’s tent and whispered to herself, “I think I like her too.”


	6. A Friendly Drink

“So, I heard you were setting up house in here,” Herah laughed as she surveyed the scene in front of her, “But I still didn’t quite expect this.”

Sera’s room at the tavern had been transformed, the once-plain wooden walls now covered with a colorful array of tapestries and carpets, scraps of fabric and a variety of seemingly random objects scattered all over the floor and furniture.

"Yeah, pretty great, right,” the elf declared, grinning as she admired her handiwork. “Why, somebody complain? That why you’re here?”

"No, I just wanted to make sure you were settling in okay,” she explained. “You know I can have Josephine find you a room in the castle if your prefer?”

Sera snorted. “Piss on that. Don’t like castles. Full of poncy jerk-offs that think they’re better than everybody else, locking themselves up nice and safe while the regular people get killed by bandits or Darkspawn or whatever other shit comes along.”

The qunari tilted her head, giving Sera a wry smile. “You know I’m one of those people who lives in a castle, right?”

"I’m still trying to decide about you, yeah? But you’re not normal castle people anyway.” Herah shook her head in agreement, and Sera asked, “You like that, being the big, powerful Inquisitor, lording it up over all those nobles that used to look down on you?”

"Not really,” the alleged Herald of Andraste admitted. “Most of the time, it’s more weird than satisfying. The truth is, I still enjoy places like this better. Somewhere to have a few drinks, take in the music, maybe a find pretty girl to talk to…”

She shot a grin at Sera, pleased when the elf gave her one in return. Herah had always been a flirt, but since taking up the mantle of the Inquisitor, she’d become a little uneasy about her interactions with the people now under her command. She didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to please her because of her rank, especially since she knew that not every woman was going to be interested in a female qunari. Sera, though, she could tell was different. The elf wasn’t the sort of person who felt the need to please anyone, no matter how important. It was refreshing, and, Herah had discovered, more than a little attractive.

“Pretty girl, huh?”, Sera asked. “Plenty of those ‘round here. One of the nice things about this whole Inquisition bit.”

"True enough. Of course,” she added, the grin remaining on her face, “Some of them are more interesting than others.”

"Think I’m interesting?” Sera flopped back on a pile of her pillows and things, kicking up her legs as she asked her rather direct question. They were quite nice legs, Herah thought, lithe like those of most elves, but also well-toned from her athletic lifestyle.

"Definitely,” the qunari agreed, finding her own seat amid the clutter. “Actually, pretty girls aside, I find myself wondering if you aren’t a little too interesting for a stuffy outfit like the Inquisition. I mean, we’ve got plenty of rules, and lords, and other stuff you don’t seem to like very much.”

"Eh, you might be pricks, but your not the worst of them,” Sera offered. “I mean, yeah, there’s some sticks up bums and all that, but you save people and that’s something. More than you can say for most people with castles, anyway. Sides, this Corypheushit seems like the biggest fucker out there. All, ‘I’m some giant Tevinter god monster arsehole and you all need to bend over and kiss it.’ Well, fuck him,” she declared. “Arrow in the throat sounds good for that sort and you’re the ones trying to give it to him.”

Herah smiled. She’d noticed the angrier Sera got, the more she swore, and Corypheus definitely seemed to bring it out in her. “Works for me,” the qunari agreed, before noting, “But that’s a ways off, I suspect. Meanwhile, why don’t we go find a drink? After all, I’ve already got the pretty girl to join me.”

 

From across the crowded main floor of Herald’s Rest, Leliana watched with interest as Herah and Sera tipped back their mugs of ale, laughing together at some joke the former bard couldn’t hear. Her own drinking companion was observing them too, her serious expression marking her as out of place amidst the tavern’s revelry.

"What do you think of that?”, Cassandra asked her. “The Inquisitor and this Sera.”

"She is smiling,” the spymaster told her friend, “More than I have seen her do in some time.”

"Should her happiness really be our primary concern?” Leliana shot Cassandra a sideways look and the Seeker corrected herself. “The question was harsher than I intended. I only mean that there is a great deal riding on the Inquisitor right now, and I worry that this infatuation may cause her to lose focus.”

Leliana took a sip of her wine as she weighted Cassandra’s words. The Ferelden vintage wasn’t especially good, too sweet for her cultivated pallet, but it held a special place in her heart all the same. Alistair had discovered a case of it in the wreckage of a caravan the Darkspawn had attacked and the group had stayed up half that night, drinking and singing, the wine and their camaraderie taking them far away from the Blight if only for a little while.

She and Nissa were still new to their relationship then, and even sly glances and stolen touches had been enough to thrill them, building anticipation for the moment when they retired to the Warden’s tent to make love until nearly dawn. Leliana had been to many exotic places and done many glamorous things, but she still thought that those simple nights in camp might have been the best of her life.

They had also helped get Nissa through the terrible task fate had appointed to her, and that, she realized, was what the Seeker did not quite understand. “It is because of what she carries that she needs to smile,” Leliana explained. “Without life’s little joys, it’s sorrows can crush us.”

“I manage to get by without such romantic frivolities,” Cassandra insisted. “My faith and my duty are enough.”

“It is not the same. To be the one person on whom everyone else relies, who is expected to save the world when no other can, is a harder thing by far then even what we do.”

"I suppose you would know better than I,” the Seeker conceded.

"Of course, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t use a little more fun in your life as well,” Leliana teased. “At the very least, you should let me take you shopping in Vas Royeaux the next time we are there. Truly, there are no finer shoe shops in all of Thedas.”

"Shoe shops? In the midst of all of this?” Cassandra shook her head, polishing off her own wine and pulling out a few coins to pay for their drinks. “Even if Varric were to put that in the book he will no doubt write about all of this, the world would never believe the truth about the fearsome Sister Leliana.”

"And that,” the spymaster agreed with a satisfied smirk, “Is why my secret remains safe with you.”


	7. War Stories

Far in the distance, the great, dark shape of Adamant Fortress loomed, but Ella Hawke was trying her best not to focus on what the Inquisition might find when they stormed its ramparts. After their battle with the corrupted Wardens at the ritual tower, she was certain it wasn’t going to be pretty, and dwelling on the possibilities wouldn’t change anything. Still, it was hard for the Champion to get the worst case scenarios out of her head, and so she was grateful when the (much) taller woman walking beside her broke the silence.

“So, Hawke,” Herah began, “I was wondering something about you and Merrill…”

The mage smiled at the cautious question, showing that bright, winning smile that so many people had followed over the years. “Go on,” she urged the qunari, “Ask away.”

“I was curious what it was like being in a relationship with somebody under your command. I mean, it feels like it could it be a distraction in a fight.”

Hawke’s smiles turned more mischievous. “Why do I suspect that question isn’t entirely academic?”, she asked. “Is there someone in the Inquisition you have your eye on? Maybe a certain blonde elf?” The Champion’s gaze turned down the columns of soldiers to where Sera was walking with Blackwall, laughing demonstratively at some joke of the Warden’s.

“I guess I’m not that hard to read, am I?”, Herah conceded with a shrug. “Yeah, I do like her. And the thing is, I’m not the kind of person who usually wastes a lot of time angsting about that stuff. Life is short, right? Except it doesn’t seem as easy now that I’m the one in charge, making the life and death decisions for everyone else.”

“You’re not wrong,” Hawke agreed, her expression turning somber. “It can be hard, going into battle leading somebody you care about that way. I remember when we were trapped in Corypheus’ prison, I was scared to death for Merrill, a lot more than for myself. But those feelings can also be a source of strength. Nothing makes us fight harder than the people we love. Besides, even if you steer clear of romance, that doesn’t mean your decisions are going to be easy. Most of the people who followed me were my friends and I can tell you’ve made some here yourself. That can complicate things too.”

“True enough,” the qunari conceded dejectedly, a frown appearing on her face. “Nothing else up until now has been simple. Why should love be any different?”

“For what it’s worth,” Hawke offered, “I can definitely see what you like about her. Of course,” she added with a wink, “I always did like them slim and a bit dangerous.”

That comment got the desired laugh out of Herah, the qunari’s gloom seeming to lift a bit. “A bit dangerous?”, she asked incredulously. “Varric makes Merrill sound like a real kitten.”

“That’s actually what Isabela used to call her,” Hawke agreed, “But even kittens have claws.” That, and a darkness that the Champion had almost lost her beloved to. For years, their worst arguments had been over Merrill’s use of blood magic and her obsession with that damned mirror and it was only when those things had cost her the life of the Keeper and what was left of her relationship with her clan that the elf had finally pulled back from the edge.

“Besides,” the Champion added, “Who says Merrill was the only one I was talking about?”

“Really?” Herah raised an eyebrow in mock shock. “I want details.”

“I guess there’s a few stories Varric didn’t tell you,” Hawke quipped. “Of course, this one was a little before his time anyway. When my family first got to Kirkwall, the city was overwhelmed by all the refugees fleeing the Blight and they stopped taking people in. The only way to get around that was with money or connections, and since we didn’t have either of them, we had to get sponsored by someone who did. My uncle got my brother and I jobs working for an elven smuggler named Aethenril who fit the bill.”

_Aethenril was pushed against the wall of the warehouse, her pants around her ankles while her shirt was hiked up far enough to reveal her pert breasts, allowing the mage pressed up behind her easy access to her body. At least for now, Hawke was the one calling the shots. It was a dangerous line to walk with her employer, but as far as she was concerned, that only made what they were doing all the more thrilling._

_One hand roughly tweaked the elf’s pierced nipple, while the other worked it’s way inside her smalls, finding her enticingly wet to the touch. Hawke’s fingers slid everywhere but where Aethenril wanted them most, gliding over her folds but avoiding the throbbing clitoris nestled between them._

_“Fucking get on with it, Hawke,” the smuggler growled, her narrow hips bucking desperately as she tried to get the contact she was craving._

_“Since you asked so nicely.” Hawke’s fingers slid upward and even as they hovered above her lover’s core, the tiniest flicker of magic appeared around them. At the unexpected stimulation of her most sensitive point, Aethenril cried out, and Hawke pressed down hard. Her teeth sank into the elf’s neck as she felt the smuggler writhe in the grip of her first, sudden climax of the evening. Hawke might have been the indentured servant but in that moment, Aethenril was undeniably hers._

“It wasn’t the kind of arrangement that could’ve lasted long-term,” she commented, a sly, suggestive smile masking the heat of her remembered arousal, “But it definitely had its benefits while it lasted.” Between her legs, the Champion’s sex throbbed, and she tried not to think about how long it had been since she’d had a night like that one. She might have left Merrill out of this mess with the Wardens for the sake of the elf’s safety, but right then, she sorely wished that her lover, rather than another session with her own hand awaited her before the coming battle.

“I’ve been there,” Herah told her, her voice keeping the Champion’s thoughts from drifting too far into her sexual frustration. “There was this merchant’s daughter in Denerim I had a thing with once… all the sparks in the world, not to mention this long, luscious black hair I loved, but I think we’d have ended up burning half the city down if my company hadn’t hired out when we did”

“What about Sera?”, Hawke asked, “Do you think she’s feeling the sparks?”

“Definitely,” the Inquisitor told her. “Although…”

Hawke tilted her head curiously. “Although what?”

“She’s being a little coy about the whole thing, saying she wants us to get to know each other better before we get too involved. I don’t really mind, but it’s not exactly her usual style.”

A smug grin covered now covered almost the whole of the mage’s pretty face. “Oh, you, my friend,” she informed Herah, “Are in trouble.”

The Inquisitor seemed confused by that. “What do you mean?”

“When the blunt ones start putting you off,” the mage laughed, “It means one of two things. Either she’s not interested…”

“She’s interested,” Herah insisted once more. “I’ve been turned down enough times to know if that’s what was going on, thank you very much.”

“Well then,” Hawke declared, “There’s only one other possibility. She’s changing it up because she really likes you.”

Herah laughed long and hard, seemingly untroubled by the prospect. “You may be right, Hawke,” she agreed, “But I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”


	8. Fallout

“Why, Inquisitor?!” At the sound of her title, Herah spun around, bringing the qunari face to face with the angry face of Ella Hawke. Like her, the former Champion had looked better, both women still wearing the blood and grime of the battle they’d just survived, but at least they were still in one piece.

"Why what?”, she asked, her reply sharper than she wanted it to be. After surviving their trip into the Fade, Herah had wandered away from the rest of the group, looking for some time free from exactly the kinds of questions she suspected the mage was asking .

"Why me? Why not Stroud? How could you leave him behind to die like that?”

"How could I…” The Inquisitor’s voice trailed off momentarily as her frustration got the better of her. “Andraste’s ass, Hawke,” she snapped, “I don’t think I’ve ever had somebody yell at me for saving their life before.”

"That’s not what I meant and you bloody well know it,” Hawke yelled back, dashing her staff to the ground in her anger. “The Wardens needed Stroud, not me. They’re a complete mess after what happened here, and he could’ve helped them to rebuild. What are they supposed to do now?”

"I don’t know,” the qunari admitted regretfully, running a hand over her forehead.

The Champion threw up her arms in exasperation. “Then why?”

Herah slumped down on a huge piece of broken stone that lay in the middle of what had once been a courtyard. In the deep black of the desert night, even the large qunari almost disappeared from view and a part of her wished she could do just that, vanish somewhere far away from all of this. That wasn’t an option though, and it hadn’t been for quite some time.

“Because I might fail,” she finally said, giving voice to the doubts she felt that only someone like the Champion could fully understand. “I know I’ve been acting like I’m on top of everything, but I’m not. If I go down, someone else is going to have to take over for me.”

Hawke’s blue eyes widened incredulously. “And you think that should be me?”, she asked. “That I should lead the Inquisition? After what happened in Kirkwall, you really think that would be a good idea?”

"Cassandra and Leliana did. They were planning for it to be you or maybe the Hero of Ferelden, not some qunari nobody had ever heard of. But they couldn’t find either of you, and then the Breech happened, and I turned up with this mark that could close the rifts. Pretty soon, people were calling me the Herald of Andraste, and at that point, they decided to just go with it. But it was going to be you, and maybe it’ll still have to be. That’s why it was you that I got out.”

The mage took a deep breath, finding some rubble of her own to sit down on. “I… I didn’t know that,” she told Herah. “That it was me they wanted. I’m not looking for that kind of responsibility. Not again.”

Herah shrugged. “Since when does what we want matter?”

"Seldom,” Hawke conceded. “But have a little faith and don’t go giving away your job just yet. You’re doing fine with this mess. As ugly as it was, we won a big victory here tonight. Corypheus lost his demon army and you even managed to save some of the Wardens.”

Herah managed a smile. “Fair enough. Still, I feel better knowing you’re out there, just in case.”

"I am,” the Champion agreed. “It might not be my first choice, but if it came to it, I doubt I could say no to the job, any more than you could. And about before, I’m sorry I snapped like that. I just… I’ve already lost way to many people that I cared about.”

The Inquisitor just nodded and added simply, “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.”

Hawke got up off of her rock with a sigh, picking up her staff from where she’d flung it. “I really should get some sleep,” she told the qunari. “It’s a long way to Weissshaupt and I want to get an earlier start in the morning. Besides,” she added, “I’m not the only one who was looking for you.” Herah raised a questioning eyebrow, and Hawke explained as she walked away, “I think you’ve got a pretty upset elf to deal with.”

 

"You were in the sodding Fade?!”

It wasn’t long after Hawke left when the elf in question found Herah, and judging by Sera’s tone, she wasn’t much happier about what had just happened than the Champion of Kirkwall had been.

“I mean, really in the sodding Fade?!”, Sera repeated incredulously.

“Uh, yeah,” Herah agreed flatly, not sure quite how to respond to the question, “We really were.”

“That’s not bloody all right,” the elf protested, kicking a rock as she vented her concerns. “That’s how Cory-phallus and all those other Tevinter fuck bags made Darkspawn and turned everything to shit. And now you went back there.”

There was something adorable about Sera when she ranted like that, and Herah did her best not to smile. “I didn’t exactly have a choice,” she explained, holding up her hands defensively. “In case you hadn’t heard, we were falling off of the top of the damn castle. Using the mark was pretty much the only move I had left other than hitting the ground very hard.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve…” Sera seemed all set to begin yelling again, but suddenly she stopped, her expression softening as she looked at the Inquisitor. “You should’ve not died,” she declared. “I’m glad you decided not to die. And I’m sorry I yelled at you and stuff, but it was really bloody scary, watching it happen. There was that dragon, and Clarel going ‘boom!’, and then you all were falling, and then nothing. You were just gone.”

“I’m sorry.” She reached out and put a hand on the elf’s shoulder. ‘Trust me it was pretty scary living through it too.”

In response, Sera moved closer, pressing herself against the qunari’s body, while Herah brought up her other arm to complete the embrace. “I know that,” the archer said, her usual fire mixed in with something softer. “Least there were plenty of demons and other rubbish to shoot while we were waiting for you to come back.“

“No shortage of those tonight,” Herah agreed, “Though I don’t usually think of that as a good thing.”

“Helped me not to think about stuff,” Sera explained. “About what a stupid piss fuck world this is, where people like you go missing, and Wardens get turned in bloody demons, and holes get torn in the sky.”

“Hey,” Herah assured her, “I know it sucks sometimes, but the world’s got good things in it too.”

“Damn right it does,” Sera agreed. “Like pies. And arrows. And… and horns.” There was a catch in her throat as she listed the last item, and the lithe rogue brought a hand up to Herah’s head, experimentally running her fingers along one of the wavy, dark horns that took the place of hair atop it. “These are so neat.”

The qunari didn’t have nerve endings there, but there was still something extremely intimate about the way Sera was touching her and what had started out as a reassuring hug was rapidly turning into something else. Herah was suddenly and highly aware of the way that Sera’s leather armor-clad breasts were brushing against her chest and she felt a heat starting to pool in her lower body at the sensation.

From the blush spreading across the elf’s face, she knew she wasn’t alone. Sera stepped backwards abruptly and stammered, “Getting to know each other, yeah? That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Herah agreed quickly, aware of a decided hitch in her own voice as well. “How, uh, do you think that’s going?”

“Pretty good, I figure,” Sera told her, the archer visibly trying to catch her breath. “Starting to think we should move onto other ways of knowing. Better ways. Maybe talk about it once we get back to Skyhold?”

Herah was tempted to protest that they could discuss it now if Sera wanted to, but in the distance, she could already hear the sound of booted feet on stone and Cullen’s voice calling out for her, and so instead, she just nodded. It would still have to be work before play unfortunately, and the Inquisitor knew that it was going to be a long trip home.


	9. Buckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place right after the romance-initiating conversation with Sera.

It was a race she knew she was going to lose. Herah Adaar might have moved deceptively fast for someone her size, but Sera hopped over rooftops and slipped through windows like a cat being chased by an angry Mabari. Still, just because she couldn’t beat the elf back to her quarters didn’t mean Herah was taking her time. The return trip from Adamant Fortress had been wait enough, and as Herah hurried across the courtyard of Skyhold and bounded up its stone steps, she had no intention of extending it a moment longer than she had to.

By the time she finally reached the door that led to her private chambers, (She had private chambers, she briefly reflected as she climbed the stairs. How strange was that?) the qunari could already feel the first flutters of anticipation in her nether regions. She was by no means a blushing virgin, but it had been far too long since she’d been with anyone else, let along someone as intriguing as the woman who was hopefully waiting for her.

Nor was she disappointed. When the Inquisitor reached the top of the stairs, she found Sera already lying on the bed, the blonde elf not wearing a stitch of clothing. Stripped of her unusual attire, there was nothing to distract Herah from her body, and it really was lovely. Her body was slim like that of most elves, but her penchant for acrobatics had left her long legs and a smooth stomach unusually well toned. Her breasts were small, but quite pert, topped by pale, pink nipples that practically called out to the qunari to play with them. And then there was her smile. The elf often bore a sour expression, but just then, she was showing Herah the most delightfully wicked grin of anticipation.

She must have been starring because several distracted seconds passed before Sera asked, “Something wrong?”

"Not at all,” she replied quickly, her own smile now growing to match the elf’s. “Just hadn’t expected to find you quite so, uh, far along.”

Sera shrugged. “Got here first. Was bored. Besides, unwrapping you proper will take time, so now you don’t gotta do me too. Well, you do. Do me, that is. But not undress me.”

"I think I get the idea.” In three long strides, Herah crossed the room, and as she reached the bed, Sera rolled up into a sitting position and grabbed the qunari’s head for a lengthy and highly enthusiastic kiss. Already, Herah could feel her skin flushing and while their tongues tangled, she took advantage of the embrace to run her hands over the elf’s nude body, starting with the curve of her ass and making her way up her back.

"Andraste’s ass,” Sera gasped, “Those are bloody strong hands. Bet you can do real nice things with those, Buckles.” Her own, smaller digits searched out the straps of Herah’s leather coat and started unfastening them. “Heh, Buckles,” she laughed to herself, “Cause you’ve got all these buckles and stuff.”

It had taken them a little negotiation to arrive at that nickname, but Herah found she liked it well enough and she let Sera maneuver her onto her back so that the elf could better undress her. It was a task her girlfriend seemed to relish, lovingly peeling off one layer of clothing after another, first leather and then cloth being removed so that nimble fingers could run over the skin beneath.

When at last Sera bared the qunari’s ample breasts, she let out an appreciative whistle. “Yeah, these are… I mean, I could see, but… wow!”

"I’m glad you approve of…” Herah’s voice trailed off as the elf’s mouth closed around a brown nipple already stiff with anticipation and her tongue ran back and forth over it, the Inquisitor’s words replaced with a pleasant sigh.

"Mm,” the elf purred as her fingers rolled the wet, stiff tip between them, “I could just play with you all day long, Buckles.”

"Feel free.” Herah laughed as she said the words, but beneath her good humor was a deep desire. She wanted badly to be appreciated not as a savior but as a woman, and when Sera’s hands and mouth began exploring her chest, Herah was all too happy to let her take her time so she could savor the moment.

And take her time Sera did. Only after she had seemingly covered every inch of the qunari’s chest with her tongue did she deign to move down to her toned stomach. Herah’s spine arched as the blonde’s hands caressed her hips while her tongue lavished attention on her hard abdominal muscles.

She was trying her best to just relax and enjoy the elf’s attentions, but between her legs, what had started as a pleasant tingling was turning into an increasingly sharp craving. Her hips bucked of their own accord and Sera licked her lips at the reaction. “Seems like you might want a taste,” she teased. “Or for me to have one.”

“Sounds good,” Herah gasped as the archer went to pull off her small-clothes. Underneath, her clitoris was engorged with lust, clearly visible against the dark skin and darker folds between her legs, and Sera grinned when she saw it.

“Ooh, easy to find,” she quipped. “Looks fun to play with too.” Her hands caressed the qunari’s inner thighs while her mouth went to her clit. She took it between her lips, and as the wet heat that engulfed her most sensitive point, Herah twitched, unable to do much more than mumble out the elf’s name.

Sera might have seemed careless to some, but when it came to the things she really cared about, she could be remarkably precise. It was true of archery, and clearly, it was true of sex too. Even as she sucked on the qunari’s clit, her tongue kept running up and down its length, her rhythm flawless. Herah couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with anyone so skillful and it felt as if all the tension of the past few months, all the burdens of expectation and command, were draining right out of her via the elf’s skilled mouth.

“Maker,” she sighed, bringing one hand down to stroke Sera’s short, blonde hair. “You are good at this.”

“Mm, gets better,” the elf murmured, the sound sending pleasant vibrations down the shift of Herah’s clit. Abruptly, the Inquisitor felt two slim fingers slide past her now-thoroughly soaked entrance and even as Sera kept licking her, the thrusts started, short, sharp things that took her already intense lust to greater heights.

She could feel her climax starting to build, and evidently Sera could sense it too, because the elf added a third finger, purring as the Inquisitor took it into her increasingly full sex. Sera started fucking her faster then, her tongue flying up and down the length of Herah’s clit as the qunari’s hips started bucking hard, pushing to get as much of her lover’s fingers as she could manage. The elf was glad to accommodate her and as her slim digits slid still deeper inside the qunari, the dam finally broke. Her whole body went rigid with a massive orgasm, first tensing and then spasming again and again as she gave herself over to the pleasure she had longed for.

When it at last receded and rational thought returned, she was greeted by the feeling of Sera kissing her way back up her sweaty body. “That was good, yeah?”, the elf smiled. “Course it was. ‘Cause you did the thing, and made the sounds, and yeah, you definitely liked it.”

“Definitely,” Herah agreed, well aware that a goofy smiled covered now her face. She had needed that release even more than she’d realized and now, she wanted nothing more than to properly thank the woman who had given it to her. With a quick hand, she grabbed Sera, pulling her closer for another kiss, tasting her own musky flavor on her lover’s lips. Her focus, however, was elsewhere. Her other hand sought out the elf’s firm backside, a playful squeeze drawing out a high moan.

“Let me show you just how much,” she whispered, her mouth escaping the kiss to run along the edge of her lover’s long, slim ear. “Sensitive?”, she teased when Sera gasped. “Mine are too, but I guess you’ll have to find that out another time, since you were so much more interested in playing with my tits.”

“They’re great tits,” Sera managed to get out while Herah turned her attention to the elf’s own breasts, cupping the small orbs in hands that covered them entirely. She began massaging the nipples with her thumbs and her lover’s nose scrunched up adorably while her thighs wrapped around the qunari’s thicker one. She bucked hard against it, and in the slick movements of flesh on flesh, Herah could feel the elf’s arousal warm against her skin.

Her hands took hold of Sera’s waist, lifting her clean into the air, and when she opened her mouth, Herah caught her lips with her own, kissing away any protests she might have thought to give. With one arm, she held the slim elf up while her other explored between her legs. There was only a little, wispy patch of blonde hair above her sex, and her clit was not nearly so easy to locate as the qunari’s. It was diamond-hard though, and when Herah finally found it and ran a single, long finger across the circular bud, her lover writhed with delight in her grasp.

“There we go,” she purred, her voice husky. “That’s the spot.”

Sera bit her lip. “Andraste’s holy tits, yes,” she muttered before adding, “Inside too, though. Want you to fuck me.”

“Happy to oblige.” Herah slid her finger down through the elf’s wet folds before teasing the opening to her pussy. In spite of her arousal, Sera was still as tight as the Inquisitor had ever had, the slick inner walls squeezing down firmly on the single digit she entered her with.

“Herah.” As she began to move inside her, Sera panted out her name, not her title nor her nickname and the qunari smiled at that. There was no time to enjoy that little pleasure though, because the elf began pushing her hips down against Herah’s hand, unwilling to let her lover control the action entirely.

It was a hard pace Sera was setting, and the qunari enjoyed keeping up with it, especially as her lover’s fluids began to coat her digits, each thrust drawing forth fresh wetness. “You want another finger?”, she asked with a small smile.

“Two?” Sera’s face was a mask of pleasure, eyes wide as she considered the question. “Maker, yes, two,” she quickly decided and Herah brought a second long digit to her lover’s entrance. This time the fit was harder. Every inch that she pushed in required careful patience, but the desperate mewls of pleasure Sera was making as she was filled more than rewarded Herah’s efforts.

When, at last, she was buried fully inside, she paused, letting her lover adjust to the fullness before bringing her thumb up to her clit and caressing it. Sera pulsed around her and the Inquisitor thrust a little deeper, her fingers bottoming out inside the elf. It didn’t take long after that. A few more powerful strokes and Sera came undone, writhing with delight, her screams of pleasure only muffled when she buried her face in Herah’s shoulder.

The qunari didn’t relent easily, answering Sera’s moans and pleas for more with thrust after thrust, relishing every shudder of her body, every squeeze of her pussy around her fingers, every cry and whimper of her name. It was hard to tell quite where one climax ended and the next began, but it hardly mattered, and by the time it was done, Sera’s head was slumped on Herah’s chest, her sweaty blonde hair falling every which way.

Slowly, she eased her fingers out of the elf, bringing them up to her lips so she could get a taste. Her lover was tart and rich, but even the sight of Herah sucking her release off of her digits couldn’t inspire much of a reaction in the exhausted Sera. Instead, all the archer managed was an soft, “So good. Rest now.”

Herah nodded in agreement, rolling Sera over onto her side before pulling her arms tight around the elf’s slim form. Her lover was uncharacteristically peaceful, and it was a feeling the Inquisitor couldn’t have shared more. Right now, all she wanted to do was take in the littler things: the sound of Sera’s breathing, the rise and fall of her chest, the smell of their lovemaking hanging in the mountain air. For a little while, she didn’t have to be a Herald or an Inquisitor, just one very lucky qunari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there was our first real smut chapter of the story. I hope you liked it, and there'll be more next time, with a different couple.


	10. Reunion

It was long past sunset when she finally reached the inn, only the unsettling gleam of the Breech illuminating the otherwise moonless night. She had had little rest for days, and her body was feeling the effects of the long ride, soreness and hunger compounding the worries that drove her. She was no expert horsewoman, but haste had forced her hand. Neither foot nor aravel would have let her reach her destination in time; she only prayed that the finest steed her coin could purchase had done better.

Dismounting with no more than the necessary clumsiness, she handed to reins to the grizzled stable-hand who came out to greet her. If his gaze showed disdain for the shape of her ears and the markings on her face, the sight of her staff bound across her back quieted his tongue and she put the man out of her mind as she entered the inn. She had more pressing matters to attend to, and a need far greater than for some foolish human’s acceptance.

The Scarlet Wyvern was as nice an inn as one could expect to find so far into the arid reaches of north-western Orlais, and after her time on the road, its common room was a welcome sight. A roaring fire rapidly banished the chill of the desert night and laughter and song filled the hall. Once, the presence of so many humans would have discomforted her, but that was another life and many years ago.

“Excuse me,” she asked the stout middle-aged woman who came out to greet her, “I wonder if you’ve had a guest recently. Another woman, perhaps a little taller than me, not old, but with pure, white hair…”

“Merrill!” The ruddy-faced inner-keeper had no need to answer her question. From across the common room came the voice she had spent the past year and a half longing to hear. The elf spun around at once, her heart leaping halfway up her throat as she saw Ella Hawke rushing towards her.

The Champion lifted her slim body up into her arms, kissing her with rare intensity. Merrill returned the embrace as best she could while her lover’s scent, currently mixed with leather and dust but still unmistakably hers, surrounded her. Beside them, the inn-keeper asked with a laugh, “I take it this is her, then?”, but Merrill was unwilling to break the kiss long enough to answer.

Only when both of them were left breathless did they finally pull apart, Hawke nodding, “Yup, that’s me. Isabela, if you could bring my friend some food and ale, that would be great. She must be hungry from the road.”

“Of course,” the inn-keeper told her with a smile, barking out an order to the kitchens. It always astounded Merrill how fast Hawke could make friends, and though a part of her wanted to protest that she was fine, and that they could move on to other things, her lover was right. She was famished, and so she let herself be led back to Hawke’s table without protest.

“Isabela?”, the elf asked as they sat down. Hawke had already finished her own dinner, and so there was nothing to distract them but each other.

“I know. Doesn’t look much like her, does she?” The Champion’s words were light, but in her eyes, Merrill could see the pain of yet another old wound. Isabela might have been vulgar and selfish, but she had also been their companion and once, they had believed, their friend. She had made their group laugh harder than anyone else could, and intrigued a shy young elf with her tales of exotic adventures and tawdry trysts, and then she had left. She ran off after the qunari attack, leaving them behind to face the unbelievable mess she had had helped to make and in spite of it all, they still missed her.

“I am more interested in looking at you, emma lath”, Merrill replied. “I always am.” Merrill had started to fall in love the first time she’d laid eyes on Hawke that day at the foot of Sundermount, and though the years might have added lines of sorrow to her face and cares to her shoulders, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to the elf. Her long white hair, her bright blue eyes, and by the gods, that smile, one that seemed to contain all the warmth in the world. She couldn’t resist running her long fingers over her beloved’s face, and when Hawke kissed her palm, her heart melted all over again.

“I’m so glad I managed to reach you here,” she told her lover, restraining her affections with the thought that they were still in public. “When I got Varric’s letter, I was afraid you would be in the Anderfels before I caught up with you.”

“You didn’t have to come,” the Champion told her apologetically. “If your people still needed your help, I would’ve understood.”

“You needed me,” she insisted. “And the clan is safe for now. The fighting between the mages and Templars is done and Corypheus does not seem interested in us.” Even saying the creature’s name made Merrill uneasy. Their descent through his prison had been perhaps the darkest journey the group had ever taken, and the battle against him their most desperate. Even more than the day that Anders and Meredith had burned Kirkwall, the elf had doubted they would survive. But Hawke had been by her side, brave and steadfast, and they had prevailed, vanquishing the ancient evil. Or so they had thought.

“Well, I am glad you’re here,” Hawke told her, but despite her smile, Merrill could see the sadness in her eyes returning. “Did Varric’s letter…. Did he tell you about Stroud?”

She nodded. “He did. He told me that he gave his life helping the Inquisition to escape from the Fade.”

“For me,” the Champion told Merrill, sounding far older than her years. “He gave his life for me. I was going to be the one to cover our retreat, and he took my place.”

In spite of the room’s warmth, a shiver ran through the elf at the realization that she had almost lost Hawke. Every day they were apart, she’d worried for her love, and when the letter from Varric had arrived telling her that Corypheus was alive and they were fighting him once more, that worry had turned to fear, a fear that she now knew had almost been realized.

Before she could dwell on it any further though, Isabella appeared, the inn-keeper bearing a mug of ale and a steaming spinach pie that she set down on the table between them. “Here you go, dear. Eat up. You certainly look like you need it.”

Merrill didn’t have to be told twice. The sight and smell of food brought her hunger straight to the surface, and she wasted no time in plunging into her meal. It was good, and hot, and she wolfed it down with a eagerness that came from knowing that once she was done, she and Hawke could finally be alone.

 

Merrill pushed open the door to the Champion’s room, practically dragged her lover across the threshold in her eagerness. Her kisses were hot and sure; a reminder of how far she’d come from the shy young Dalish elf that Hawke had first fallen in love with in Kirkwall. Back then, she’d had to slowly introduce her girlfriend to each new pleasure, but it had been more than worth her patience. The gasps of discovery and sighs of delight had been wonderful, and now, Hawke greatly enjoyed the confidant lover the elf had become.

Right then, though, her foremost thought was that Merrill had far too much clothing on, and the Champion set to work fixing that. One by one, she peeled off layers of cloak and tunic, seeking out ever more of the elf’s pale skin. “I missed you so much,” she said softly as she ran kisses along the side of her lover’s long neck. “There were times in the Fade I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

Unbidden, memories of the nightmare’s threats returned to her mind. “Merrill is going to die,” its unseen, all-encompassing voice had told her, “And there is nothing you can do about it.” The demon had know exactly the fear that preyed on her most. So many friends and loved ones were already gone: her parents, Bethany, Isabela, Anders, and now Stroud. She couldn’t lose Merrill too, and with sudden desperation, she clung tighter to her lover, tears now mixed in with her kisses.

“I’m here, emma lath,” Merrill whispered, stroking her hair as she tried to soothe her distress. “I will never leave your side. Not for as long as you want me there.” They were words that Hawke knew well, almost the very ones that she had said to the elf long ago, when she had been at lowest.

_“You were right,” Merrill whimpered, unwilling to look at her. Her lover had fled to her tiny house in the alienage, unwilling to return to Hawke’s estate after the tragedy on Sundermount. The Champion had followed her though, only to find Merrill curled up in a corner, sobbing softly._

_“You were right,” she babbled, all the horrible things she’d been telling herself over the last few hours flowing out of her without any filter, “And I was stupid, and childish, and, and wrong. And now the Keeper’s dead, and the clan hates me, and you’re going to leave because I’m such a stupid fool.”_

_Hawke had been right, but winning their argument didn’t matter to her anymore. It broke her heart to see Merrill this way and she knelt down next to the elf, taking her into her arms. Her fingers brushed across her face, tracing the lines of her tattoos as she assured her, “I’m not. I won’t. I will never leave your side for as long you want me there.”_

The words had comforted her lover then, and they did the same for Hawke now, but she needed more, needed the physical reminder that not everything she cared for was gone. She guided Merrill towards the inn’s bed, covering her face with kisses even as she finished baring her lover’s chest. Those small, perfect breasts that she adored were exposed first to her gaze, and once she laid Merrill down on the bed, to her hands and mouth as well. She worshiped them in every way she knew how, covering the pale skin with kisses, caressing the nipples with her fingers, pressing her face against their warmth.

The Champion began sucking lovingly on a erect pink nipple and Merrill ran her fingers through that gorgeous white hair, purring, “Yes, emma lath, yes.” The human was always a generous lover, but at times like this, she could be especially so. Her guilt at surviving when so many around her had died could nearly overwhelm her, and doing this, attending to someone else’s needs, comforted her.

Hawke was encouraged by her lover’s words, slowly making her way down Merrill’s slender body. She traced each line of it affectionately, running her tongue along the curve of her hip bone and down towards the place between the elf’s legs that she loved so well. One finger slipped under Merrill’s smalls, playing in the thin, dark hair above her sex before she removed them. The elf smelled marvelous, a mixture of sweat and her arousal that Hawke relished.

Her lover’s breath was hot on her sex and Merrill’s hips pushed towards her, making it easier for Hawke to capture what she sought. Perfect lips found the elf’s small, hard bud and she let out a soft moan as it was taken between them, struggling to make no more noise than that. It had been so long since she’d gotten to experience that amazing mouth, and she was accustomed to her lover’s expansive estate, not this small room with its thin walls.

Hearing Merrill’s little mewls of delight as she was eaten out, Hawke felt her nerves begin to relax. Her own body was beginning to heat up, her pale skin flushing with long-denied desire, but she could wait for her own pleasure until she’d brought it to the woman she loved. Above her, the elf’s back arched and Hawke brought a single finger up to her sex. It was as tight as she remembered, and she began not by fucking Merrill hard, but instead caressing her pussy, curling her digit to stroke her sensitive front wall.

“So good,” the elf moaned, “You’re always so good.” She could feel the pressure swiftly building in her body, Hawke’s lips and finger drawing her climax to the surface. It had been so long since she’d had real release and as it finally drew into sight, her desire was making her as needy as she could remember being. “Don’t stop,” she urged her lover, “Don’t ever. I want to… I want to come for you.” It had taken practice for the shy elf to be willing to say her desires aloud, but Hawke enjoyed it so much that it was worth the effort.

“I want that too,” the Champion cooed, her finger still working inside Merrill as she spoke, “Want to feel your body tense in my arms, feel you tighten around my finger. Will you do that for me, my love?”

“Yes,” Merrill promised, her words slipping into barely-coherent elven as she approached the edge. She could do nothing but repeat, “Ar nuvenin, ar nuvenin…” I want, I need, over and over again as she melted, her clit throbbing uncontrollably, her wetness coating her beloved’s hand, her fingers clutching desperately at the human’s hair and shoulders.

Only when Merrill finally stopped trembling beneath her did Hawke slide out of her lover, savoring a final taste of the elf on her fingers. It was earthy and sweet all at the same time, and as she sucked her release down, Merrill purred, “Oh, emma lath. Ma serranas.”

“You are very welcome,” Hawke smiled affectionately. “It was my pleasure.”

“I would still like to thank you in other ways,” the elf told her, normal speech returning along with her desire to reciprocate. “It has been so long since I could.”

“Far too long,” the Champion agreed, ridding herself of her own clothes with a haste born of desire. “But don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere either.”   Merrill’s hands began to slide over her body, caressing her shoulders and massaging her breasts, and when they slid between her legs to stroke her sex, all she could think was, “Not again. Not anymore.” Wherever they might be, together was where they belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to get Isabela to come back if you're not romancing her, so this time, she didn't. Hope you enjoyed Hawke and Merrill's reunion. Next, we're back to Sera and Herah. And formal wear.


	11. Formal Wear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter got started because Female Adaar looks incredible in the Winter Palace outfit. The rest just kind of came naturally.

Usually, Sera just snuck in through the window. It was simpler to get to Herah’s rooms that way, letting her bypass all the boring tits who liked to flock around the main hall of Skyhold and get straight to the better parts of her visit. Like tits. This time, though, Herah had promised her that if she took the stairs, she’d have a surprise waiting for her when she arrived.

Unfortunately, however, the sexy qunari was nowhere to be seen. “Buckles?”, she called out, “You here?”

She was trying to decide if this was the start of a really lame prank or maybe a really good one when, from behind a closed door, she heard the sound of her lover’s frustrated grunt. “Sera? Sorry, I’ll just be a minute. I thought I’d be ready by now but this thing is way too complicated. Totally ruining my plan to make a smooth entrance.”

Sera scrunched her nose up in confusion and hopped on the large bed, amusing herself by seeing how high she could toss one of the pillows without actually hitting the ceiling. “You know, if you’re naked, you don’t have to worry about all that entrance stuff,” she offered. “You could tumble in here falling on your horns and you’d still look bloody great.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but naked gymnastics weren’t exactly what I had in mind,” Herah replied, her words followed by a satisfied snort. “There. Got it.”

The door opened and Sera’s jaw dropped, the pillow landing on her head with a soft thud and then falling on the floor as she starred. Instead of her usual tan outfit, the Inquisitor was wearing a uniform of bright red and dull yellow, with a striking blue sash cutting diagonally across her chest and wrapping around her waist. “Uh, wow,” the elf mumbled, “That’s, um, yeah, real nice…”

Herah smiled mischievously. “You like it? And here I was worried you’d tell me I look like one of those noble pricks you always love to complain about.”

“Well, um, you do, sort of,” she said, hemming and hawing furiously, “But it’s different, yeah? Because you’re you, and not one of them, and uh, because you look much better than they would.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, because I have one of these for you too.”

“Oh, no,” she protested. “Okay for you, all right, cause you’re the bleeding Herald and such, but not for me. No way.”

“Hey, it was that or the dresses.”

Her expression dropped even further. “Dresses?”

“Yup, dresses. Listen, Sera, we have to fit in at the Winter Palace, and according to Leliana, who ought to know, that gives us two choices. We either wear the uniforms, or we have to go full Orleasian high fashion: dresses, masks, jewelry, all of it. Do you want that?”

She slumped her shoulders, admitting defeat. “Hell no.”

“Then it’s the uniform for you. It’s not that bad really, at least once you get the hang of the sash. That thing’s a bitch and a half. Unless…” The Inquisitor bit her lip, a small gesture Sera found she could never take her eyes off of. “Unless you think you could pass for one of the palace servants. It could have its advantages having someone working for us behind the scenes.”

She shook her head. “Wouldn’t work. Big people don’t see the servants, but they all see each other. Never pass if I didn’t belong. Plus, I’d have to curtsy and bow and act like I liked all those stupid tits. Not going to do that, so uniforms it is.”

“You don’t have to come, you know.”

“Bugger that,” she declared. “Not leaving you alone with those people.”

Her lover leaned down and gave her a long kiss. “Aw, thanks. Besides, look on the bright side. Vivian and Dorian have both been begging me to make you do something with your hair.” Her eyes widened, but Herah assured her, “Don’t worry, I told them no way. They may make us dress like nobles, but we have to draw the line somewhere. Otherwise, next thing you know, we’ll be worrying about lace patterns or some other nonsense like that.”

"Can’t have that, Buckles,” she agreed. “Now come on. That uniform makes me want to get you right back out of it.”

"Sounds like fun. But Sera,” Herah cautioned her, “Please be careful when you do. Josephine will kill us both if you rip anything.”

 

“Well, don’t you look darling, Josie?”

The Antivan beauty gave her friend an rueful smile. “You are too kind, Leliana, but I really don’t think the uniform suits me very well. I am much more comfortable in a dress.”

Once, she might have shared that sentiment, but long years and myriad duties had taught Leliana to make the best of a dizzying variety of garbs. “It will be fine,” she reassured Josephine, before adding, “Besides, did you really want to have to find court clothes for some of the members of our little group?”

“No, you are right,” Josephine conceded. “It was hard enough getting the shoulders on Iron Bull’s uniform to fit properly; I hate to think what would’ve been involved in decking him out more fully. We’re fortunate that even the uniforms could be delivered before we had to depart for the Winter Palace. Still, it has been some time since I attended a grand fete such as this one. I would have liked to go in style.”

Leliana tugged on the sleeves of her own uniform, adjusting the fit to cover for a deeper discomfort. “I know what you mean. The thought of attending a masquerade at Halamshiral does make me feel a bit like an innocent young bard once more, thrilled by the glamour of it all.”

A knowing smile appeared on Josephine’s face. “Then why do I hear a hint of regret in your voice?”

“Because,” she explained, silently chastising herself for failing to keep her emotions better concealed, “It reminds me of other things as well. Affairs that did not go as I wished them to.”

_The Landsmeet might have been a gathering of nobles, but its proceedings were far removed from the elegant dance of Orlesian court intrigue, What had begun as a cacophony of raised voices and angry accusations was now ending as a duel. Nissa of the Grey Wardens and Teyrn Loghain of Gwaren starred daggers at each other, waiting for the signal to begin their battle._

_Under other circumstances, it might have been an inspiring sight, one worthy of song. The two combatants were garbed more similarly than most would have expected, given that one of them was a mage and the other a renowned swordsman. Of late her beloved had been studying some arcane battle art they had learned of in an elven ruin and Nissa had exchanged her robes for a glittering suit of Juggernaut armor, a fair match for Loghain’s own plate mail. Leliana, however, was far too nervous to appreciate the spectacle. It always tried the nerves to go into battle beside the one she loved, but this, being forced to watch but unable to help, was nearly unbearable._

Josephine placed a hand on the bard’s shoulder. “You’re thinking of the warden again, aren’t you? You always get that same, distant look in your eyes when you do.”

“You must think me a fool,” she told her friend. “To hold onto the dream of her, when she has been gone for so long does not exactly demonstrate the realism my job requires.”

The Antivan smiled. “No, I think you are a romantic. The hardened spymaster waiting for her lost love to return to her… It would make a fine tale for any bard to spin.”

She shook her head. “The Inquisitor and I sent her a letter after Adamant Fortress, warning her of Corypheus’ designs on the order, but I still have heard nothing in return. My agents assure me that they delivered the message to her wardens, but they cannot guarantee that she will receive it. Or that she is even still alive.” Her voice was calm as she said the words, but her demeanor hid her fear. As hard as it had been to watch Nissa fight Loghain, this, waiting without knowing anything, was even worse.

“I believe she will come back to you,” Josephine offered, at least trying to project certainty. “Surely, the Maker cannot mean for a story such as yours to have such a dismal ending.”

_“Don’t leave like this,” she urged Alistair, her hand taking hold of an armored sleeve before he could complete his exodus from the hall. Nissa was too busy dealing with Anonra and the rest of the Landsmeet to run after him, and too proud even if she had the time, but Leliana had to make one last attempt. For months, he had been an integral part of their band of warriors, Nissa’s friend even before Leliana met her, and she couldn’t bear to see him leave like this._

_“No,” he snapped, rage filling his normally friendly voice, “Nissa made her choice and she chose that murdering asshole over me. She’s going to let him become a warden when she should’ve cut his damned head off.”_

_“She was condemned once too” she pleaded, trying to make him see things from her beloved’s perspective, ”And Duncan gave her another chance.”_

_“And Loghain killed Duncan. How can she let him walk away from that?”_

_“She’s not. This is not a pardon. It is…”_

_Alistair did not let her say more, violently wrenching his arm out of her grasp and storming out of the hall without so much as another word. The bastard boy with royal blood in his veins hadn’t become king, but instead a worthless drunk, at least if the reports she’d received were to be believed. Life was not one of those stories that another, far more naïve girl had delighted in telling her lover around their campfires at night, and there was no guarantee that there would be a happy ending for her and her warden any more than there had been for Alistair._

Leliana removed Josephine’s hand from her shoulder gently but firmly. “The Maker will do as He wills,” she told her, “And I have far too much work of my own to do before the ball to waste time speculating about what that might be.”


	12. Games

She found the Herald of Andraste sitting on a bench in the gardens of the Winter Palace. Herah’s broad shoulders were slumped, and her hands rested on top of her head, covering her face. “Inquisitor,” Cassandra asked, “Are you all right? The court has been missing you.”

Herah looked up at her. “Sorry. I guess it’s easy to notice when I duck out. A qunari Inquisitor’s kind of conspicuous.”

"You are,” she agreed, but when she saw the weariness in Herah’s big, brown eyes, she decided not to push her. “There’s no rush to get back. You’ve saved their lives tonight. They will wait.”

"Thanks,” she shrugged. “I guess I needed a little break from all of it.”

"An understandable sentiment.”

"Maker, but I hated tonight,” Herah told her. “The whole time, I felt like I was stumbling around the palace with a blindfold on while people threw darts at me.”

"Leliana tells me you did well,” Cassandra reassured her, taking a seat next to the Inquisitor on the stone bench. “She said that the court was both surprised and impressed by your diplomacy.”

"Were they?” She laughed. “You know how I pulled that off? It was Josephine’s advice: say as little as possible. Every time somebody asked me a question, I told them something like, ‘That’s possible’ or ‘Maybe, but we’ll just have to see.’ Complete and utter bullshit, all of it.”

“That is what they liked.” Cassandra allowed a small smile to cross her face. “And it is one of the many reasons why they are so insufferable.”

"You got away from it,” Herah told her, a clear note of envy in her statement. Escape was something Cassandra doubted would be possible for the Inquisitor any time soon. “You were born to be one of them and instead you picked up and did something worthwhile with your life instead.”

"It remains to be seen whether starting the Inquisition will qualify as worthwhile,” Cassandra replied, “But yes, I did. Sometimes I wonder if it was even really my choice. We are all who the Maker made us to be, and He did not shape me to be the sort of woman who wears fancy dresses and cares about frivolities.”

“Well, I’d count that as a good thing,” the Inquisitor said, giving Cassandra a friendly pat on the back, “Even if you’d probably look pretty hot in the dress.”

She was sure she blushed at that, because Herah laughed. “Just teasing you. But really, they were all terrible people here. Celene, Briala, Gaspard… Florianne happened to be the one working for Corypheus, but every last one of them would feed their mother to a dragon if there was an little power in it for them. And they way they do it… A good fight is honest at least. Here, they’d rather kill you will a smile and a knife in your back.”

"You will find no argument from me. I understand the necessity of what Leliana and Josephine do. I can even respect their skill at doing it. But I have no wish to do it myself. I do wonder one thing, though?”

"What’s that?”

"Why did you chose to save Empress Celene? Given your dislike of the Game, Grand Duke Gaspard seemed like the one you would’ve preferred to see on throne.”

Herah shook her head. “Maybe he would’ve been better. I don’t know. It’s not like he wasn’t up to plenty of bad shit too. Murdering people, sneaking mercs into the palace...”

"That’s true, ” she conceded. The behavior of those they had dealt with tonight had disgusted Cassandra no less than the Inquisitor, a collection of spoiled nobles playing at their little games while the future of the world hung in the balance.

"But that’s not the only reason I didn’t let him take the throne,” Herah told her. “It’s that... I don’t know. I told you before, I like things simple and you know what seemed simple to me? We don’t let Corypheus kill who he wants to kill. Save the girl, save the day, and figure out the rest later, right?”

"A noble enough sentiment,” Cassandra told her. It was one she shared, but did that make it right? Was it better to have the Inquisition led by someone honest like Herah, or someone like Leliana who saw all the angles? She liked to think it was the former, but she couldn’t know for sure.

Just then, they were interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps and a boisterous voice calling out, “There you are.” Iron Bull sauntered into view, a bottle of wine in his meaty hand.

"Andraste’s ass,” Herah groaned, “Is the entire Inquisition out looking for me?”

"Only the ones who wanted to get away from all those boring-ass Orleasian nobles,” Bull laughed. She wouldn’t have expected it, but Cassandra had come to like the big qunari well enough. They were both warriors who had given their lives to their duty, even if his version of that duty seemed to involve a great deal more drinking and carousing than hers.

In this case, though, she had a question. “Bull, where is Sera? You were supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”

"Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I found her an excellent Orlesian red. She should be busy for a while.”

"And what about when she’s done enjoying it?” Herah asked, pulling herself off of the bench. “Come on, we’d better get back to the party before she burns the palace down.”

           

As it turned out, Iron Bull had been right about the wine keeping Sera occupied. Herah found her lover half-asleep, draped across a sumptuous couch with a cloth-of-gold cover, the empty bottle on the plush carpeted floor next to her.

"Come on, sleepy,” she told Sera, giving her a pat on the head to wake her up. “The party’s winding down and it’s time for us to get out of here.”

"Mm, Buckles,” Sera mumbled, inching her green eyes open in response to Herah’s touch. “Was good wine. Sorry I didn’t save you some. Why do rich tits get all the good wine?”

"Because they’re rich,” she told her. “Now come on. I think we’ve spend enough time with those tits tonight. I’d rather spend the rest with yours.”

"Heh, yeah. My tits… Do think yah…” Sera blinked, trying to remember the order words went in. “Do yah think we could get Celene?”

"For what?””, she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"You know...”

"For sex?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want me to see if the Empress of Orlais would join us for the night?”

Sera rubbed her messy blonde hair. “Sure. Cause, um, she’s hot. I mean, not you hot, but hot. And you saved her life. So, yeah. Think she’d go for it?”

"Somehow I doubt it,” Herah laughed, helping Sera to her feet. “I think she’s gotten into enough trouble by sleeping with elves for one night.”

"Not… not like other stupid elves,” she protested, shaking her head back and forth while she tried to sneak in a quick grope of Herah’s ass.

The attempt almost made her fall over though, and Herah wrapped a strong arm around her lover’s waist, making sure she stayed upright. “Oh, no,” she quipped. “You’re no trouble at all.”

Sera placed an awkward kiss on the side of her face. “Mm, your trouble though, right?”

"Definitely,” she agreed, pulling Sera close to her as the two rogues made their way slowly through the Winter Palace, “You are that.”


	13. Harsh Measures

Herah dug in her heels, spurring her massive Ferelden charger to keep up with the rider ahead of her. “Damn it, I told you not to do that ,” she yelled, trying to get the other woman’s attention. “And you went ahead and killed her anyway.”

Leliana didn’t stop her brown and white spotted mare, instead maintaining a small lead over Herah while she replied. “Sister Natalie betrayed us. Her death was a message, both to those who sent her and to anyone else who might be inclined to attack us in the future. I don’t see why this bothers you. You didn’t object when I dealt similarly with other traitors.”

“That was… different.” It was earlier was what she really meant. Before they’d made her the Inquisitor. Before she’d had the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. Before she’d been obliged to sit in judgment over the lives of others. Back in Leliana’s tent in Haven, she’d just been a warrior angry at someone who’d betrayed their comrades. Now, she had a better idea of what that kind of choice cost the person who made it.

She wasn’t sure how to explain that though, and so instead she said, “Natalie used to be your friend. And if that doesn’t mean anything to you, then maybe this does: you just left a bloody corpse on the floor of a chantry. Does that seem right to you?”

Leliana stopped her horse at that, twisting her head around to shoot a viscous glare at Herah. “I thought you didn’t believe in the Maker,” she spat.

“And I thought you did,” she snapped back. “Look at what you’re doing, Leliana. You want me to back you to be the next Divine. Is this really the right way to make your case to me or to the Grand Clerics?”

“You’re being naïve, Inquisitor. You don’t think the Divine has to have people killed? Justinia was a remarkable woman, but there was a reason that she employed me. She knew that the Chantry needed to change and that change will not be gentle.” She paused before her last words, and when she spoke them, they were quieter but no less firm. “Neither can I.”

Herah took a breath of her own, trying to let go of the anger she felt. She needed to get through to her comrade more than she needed to yell at her. “I’m not a child. I know we need to do tough things sometimes,” she told her, “But that doesn’t mean you have to be nothing other than a killer. When you told me about the time you spent with the Hero of Ferelden, it felt like you were different back then. Happier.”

Her spymaster turned away from her once more, her face disappearing behind her hood. “Once, perhaps, I was” she admitted, but the regret in her voice vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “But that woman is long gone. Now, I am simply what I need to be.”

 

She hadn’t been back at Skyhold more than an hour when Cassandra found her. The spymaster was in her aerie, reviewing the correspondences that had accumulated in her absence, when the sound of her friend’s heavy boot steps on the staircase warned her that she wasn’t alone.

“Leliana,” came the inevitable words, “I heard about what happened at the chantry in Valence. Are you all right?”

She looked up from her papers. “Word travels quickly, I see.”

“You know that Varric cannot resist a good story,” Cassandra explained before adding, “And in this case, I believe that he’s concerned about you.”

“He does not need to be and neither do you. I’m perfectly all right.”

“I think that’s what worries him. He told me that you killed someone who used to be a friend, and the Inquisitor was the only one who seemed to be upset about that.”

“Herah has a good heart,” Leliana told her, “And she’s a fitting champion for the Inquisition. But she does not always have a firm grasp on what needs to be done.”

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably in her armor. The former Seeker was never eager to talk about feelings even when she felt the need to do so. “And you do?”, she asked. “I know what it is to discover that someone isn’t who you thought they were. I know that it can take you to dark places. What happened with Lord Seeker Lucius made me question much…”

Leliana cut her off. “I appreciate your words, but this particular lesson is one I learned a long time ago.”

Cassandra didn’t reply at first. Leliana had told her of Marjolaine’s betrayal, but not of its more sordid details. Nissa was the only one she had ever trusted with those, the only one who knew the size of scar it had left on her soul. The older bard had been her whole world: her mentor, her lover, and her idol. Leliana would have done anything for her, at least until Marjolaine betrayed her devotion.

The Orlesian soldiers who had taken her prisoner afterwards had brutalized her body, leaving marks that she still bore, but it was the cut to her heart that had been the deepest. After realizing what Marjolaine really was, she had been empty, a shell that scarcely felt the pain her captors had inflicted on. She had believed that she would die, and she hadn’t been able to make herself care.

Fate had decided otherwise. Justinia had arranged her rescue from that nightmarish prison, and Nissa had brought her heart back to life, but in spite of their kindness, they had left her too. The Divine had sacrificed herself to save Herah and of her beloved warden, there was still no word. Leliana was beginning to doubt that there ever would be one. The world was not kind to people like them.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra told her. “I should have recalled your history. I simply hoped that I might provide some perspective. Varric isn’t the only one who’s worried about you.”

“Is that concern coming from my friend,” she asked coldly, “Or from another candidate to be the next Divine?”

The former Right Hand let out an exasperated sigh. “Do not sound so suspicious when you say that. I didn’t ask for the Grand Clerics to consider me.”

“But they have.” She stood from her writing table, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is it what you want? Because if not, you could publically withdraw your name from consideration.”

Cassandra’s expression hardened. “I did not come here to fight with you about this, Leliana, but neither do I intended to step aside. If it is the Maker’s will that I be the next Divine, than so be it.”

“The Maker wills nothing that the Conclave does,” Leliana snapped. “Its decision are those of the Grand Clerics and their motivations are often far from holy.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed at her words. Even though her friend knew about the corruption in the chantry, she disliked taking that knowledge to its depressing conclusion. “If that is what you believe,” Cassandra told her, “Then I suppose we shall see what they will do instead.” With that, she turned to leave and Leliana sat back down at her table, picking up the next letter from the stack and reading it.

It came from one of her agents in Denerim, reporting on the discrete visits that a certain Mother Sylvana had been making to a handsome elf who worked at the Pearl. The Mother was well-connected among precisely those Chantry circles that looked down their nose at elves and now, she belonged to the Inquisition, even if she didn’t realize it yet. The Grand Clerics would do what they were made to do, and if Cassandra couldn’t see that, then that was all the more reason why Leliana should be the one who sat the Sunburst Throne.


	14. Sera Was Never

When her lover appeared in the window to her chambers, Herah was humming.

“What’s that then?”, Sera asked, tumbling to the floor and across the room to the desk where Herah was working her way through a stack of papers.

“It’s your song,” she chuckled. “Did you know you had a song?”

“Course I know. They sing it all the bloody time.”

Herah couldn’t stop herself from doing the same. “Sera was never quite the wealthiest girl. Some say she lives in a tavern…”

Sera interrupted her with a hard kiss before jumping into her lap. She landed on top of Herah’s thigh, straddling the Inquisitor. “’S a silly song,” she declared.

“About a silly girl.” Herah ran her hands along Sera’s slim frame, starting at her cute little ass and proceeding all the way up to her blonde hair. “My girl,” she added after another kiss. “And speaking of that, I have a present for you.”

“Aw, Buckles. Told you before, you don’t have to give me stuff.”

“I know, but I finally figured out what to get, no thanks to the rest of the Inquisition.”

She hefted Sera up in the air, carrying her over to the bed and setting her down there before ducking into the other room. “Oh, is it a bed-type present?”, Sera asked, an eager smile coming over her face.

“Sorry, not this time. But trust me, you’re still going to like it.” She walked back out carrying a long box covered in gold and green paper. “I know, the wrapping’s a little much, but Josephine picked it out.”

Sera rolled up into a sitting position and snatched the package out of her hands. “Ooh, lemme see.”

She tore it open with gusto, ripping off the paper and then removing the lid of the box. Inside was a brand-new recurve bow, off-white and deep red, with a glowing orange stone set in the center of the riser. “New bow!” She took it out and turned it over appreciatively in her hands. “A really nice new bow.”

“Not just any new bow.” Herah traced a nail along the limb of the weapon. “I had Harritt and Dagna make it from the bones of the High Dragon we killed in the Western Approaches.”

It wasn’t easy to render Sera speechless, but that did the trick. For an entire minute, the rogue just ran her fingers over the bow, starring at it with a goofy grin on her face. And then, abruptly, she broke the silence by declaring, “Let’s go shoot something. Bow this sweet, I’ve got to shoot something with it.”

“We’ll be off to the Arbor Wilds before you know it,” she promised. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of Red Templars once we get there just begging for an arrow through the eye.”

Sera’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, bet there will be.” A small, pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Course,” she pointed out, “I didn’t get you anything this time. Can’t have that.”

She held up her hands. “You don’t have to…”

“Nope,” Sera insisted, “Wouldn’t be fair.”

Without waiting for further comment, she set down the bow and seized hold of Hera’s belt, yanking it off before the Inquisitor even realized what she was doing. Nimble fingers un-tucked her shirt and when Sera’s lips starting exploring the taut plane of her abdomen, she felt desire pooling between her legs. Sera’s hunger was infectious and Herah pushed her hips forward, urging her to continue.

She hardly needed the encouragement, unfastening Herah’s pants and tugging them and the underwear beneath down. Her tongue worked its way up a strong thigh while slim fingers caressed the swell of Herah’s ass. In spite of the hurried pace, she felt herself responding to Sera’s enthusiasm and by the time the elf reached her sex, her clit was already standing erect, waiting to be touched. Sera pulled the bud into her mouth and as the first of Herah’s wetness coated her lover’s lips, she let out a low groan. She wasn’t sure if it was better to give than to receive, but right then, both of them seemed pretty damn good.

 

“Shit,” Sera proclaimed from the sprawl of naked limbs they found themselves in some time later, “I think I owe you another present now.”

“No, no,” Herah laughed. “You’re forgetting the thing you did with your knuckle.”

Sera joined in on the giggling. “Heh, yeah, that was a good idea.”

“Let’s just call it even,” Herah offered, untangling herself enough to wrap an arm around Sera and pull her up against her chest. Her lover settled into the embrace, nuzzling her face against Herah’s breasts and letting her hand rest on her thigh. The last of the daylight was still visible through the doors that led to the balcony and a bit of cool air drifted in from an open window. Herah tried to freeze the memory in her mind, a moment of blissful calm that might give her strength in the battles she still had to fight.

Of course, peaceful silences seldom lasted long with Sera around. Nipping playfully at Herah’s breast, she declared, “Okay, it’s question time.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Question time? Why now?”

“Cause now you’re too relaxed to lie proper, of course.”

“All right then,” she agreed. “What do you want to know? Arcane secrets? Battle plans? The color of Cassandra’s undergarments?”

Sera paused, seeming to consider the last possibility a little longer than the rest. “Maybe later. Now though, had a different question. At the Winter Palace, I said Celene was real pretty. You didn’t seem so keen. So I want to know who you fancy. Who’s the tastiest in the Inquisition?”

She kissed the top of Sera’s head. “You, of course.”

She shook her head. “No fair. You’ve got me already. Need to pick someone else.”

“I’m not sure,” she objected with a smirk. “This question sounds like it might be a set-up. I give you an answer and then you’ll tease me about it or tell them, or something.” She bit her lip, deciding to turn things around. “Who’s yours.”

Sera scrunched up her face as she considered. “’S bloody hard to pick. Plus, I already gave you Celene.”

“Yeah, but she’s not in the Inquisition so she doesn’t count. You go first then I will, once I know I’ve got something on you just in case.”

Sera shrugged. “Not sure. Lady Ruffles is real pretty. Could be too proper to do it right, though. And Viv’s tall. I mean, not you tall, but not bad, and I fancy tall. Course, she’d probably be all, ‘No, Sera, not like that. Move your stupid finger over here. Do it better. You’re terrible.’ Hardly any fun, that.”

Herah burst out laughing at Sera’s terrible imitation of Viviane’s accent and her lover gave her shoulder a playful shove. “Stop that. Your turn now.”

“All right, all right,” she agreed, “Even if you didn’t really give me a proper answer. There’s a lot of choices, but with a dagger to my throat, I think I’d have to pick Leliana.”

“You sound like Bull,” Sera declared. “Always going on, ‘Blah, blah, redheads, blah, blah, so hot.’”

“Maybe it’s a qunari thing,” she joked.

“Could be. Thought you weren’t getting on with her though. Varric said there was some big fight about her cutting someone.”

“Well, you just asked who was good-looking, not who I’d want to date. But you’re right about the argument.” The reminder was rapidly draining away Herah’s pleasant mood, but it might do her good to share her concerns. “I’m worried about her. I don’t want her to turn into a killer.”

“That’s silly. We’re all killers, yeah? We killed a dragon, bandits, Templars, lots of stuff that needed killing.”

“Yeah, but…” She stopped, sighing as she tried to sort out her thoughts. “This is different somehow. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s like there’s this darkness in Leliana, and it’s swallowing her up.”

Sera rolled over on the bed, sticking her bare legs up so they could air out. “Not really good at the heavy stuff,” she declared, “But I think I get you. She doesn’t smile much, that’s for definite. I mean, yeah, things are all grim and serious, with Corpse-a-puss and his bullshit, but there’s good stuff too.”

“Like horns,” Herah reminded her.

“”Yeah, horns.” Sera rolled back on top of her, her hands running up and down the dark, pointed lengths. “Horns are great. ‘Specially on you. But I think red might need more’n horns to make her smile.”

Herah sighed, wrapping her arms around Sera once more. “Sadly, you may be right. But I don’t know if I can give it to her.” There might only be one person who could, and she had no idea where to find her.


	15. To The Finish

“This is really fucking stupid.”

They had almost reached the Valley of Sacred Ashes, and the more she thought about what was going on, the less Sera understood it. Above them, the Breech gaped, huge and angry since Corypheus had torn it wide open again, a spiteful gesture she couldn’t quite wrap her brain around.

“Yeah, he’s bloody pissed,” she complained. “Get that. We messed up his shit, stole his well, all of that stuff. So throw something. Try and light us on fire. Wrecking the world doesn’t make any sense.”

“Since when do ‘Vint mages make any sense?”, Iron Bull asked, chuckling when Dorian shot him a disapproving glare. “He probably just wants to watch it all burn.”

Herah shook her head, packing up the pace so that she could join Sera at the head of the column. “No, there’s a purpose to all of this. It’s about me.”

Sera didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “About you? What about you?”

“Corypheus wants to kill me, and this forces me to face him before most of our army can get back from the Arbor Wilds.”

“Indeed,” Morrigan agreed, “’Tis no longer simply power he craves, but vengeance. A man such as this cannot abide being thwarted, especially not by those he considers to be his inferiors.”

“Is that what those elf-y voices told you?”, Sera asked. She was grateful it hadn’t been Herah who’d drunk from the Well of Sorrows. She didn’t want to share her lover, and especially not with some weird ass collection of dead elf spirits, or whatever the hell the water had dumped inside Morrigan.

“No,” the witch told her, “It is merely my own observation. In spite of his exotic magics and unusual history, Corypheus is little different than most who have power. He is greedy, ambitious, and petulant when thwarted. His tempers tantrums are simply on a larger scale than most people’s.”

Iron Bull laughed at her words. “A tantrum, huh? Then I guess we’ll just have to give him a good spanking.”

“Are you ready for that?”, Herah asked Morrigan. “You’re sure that thing Flemeth showed you will let us deal with the dragon?”

“My mother is many things,” the witch replied, “But a poor teacher is not one of them . I will be ready when the time comes.”

“If you need some help with it, I can do that,” Sera offered. Dragons, she liked fighting. Sure, they were big, but that just made them better targets. Ancient Tevinter god-monsters, not so much. Who knew what that magic of theirs was getting up to while you were shooting at them? She ran her hand along the curve of the bow Herah had given her. It had already proven itself in the Arbor Wilds, but would it be enough to kill someone who didn’t seem able to die?

“I think we’d all like a crack,” Bull offered. “This fight’s been a long time coming.”

Herah sighed. “Sorry to disappoint,” she told the group, “But you can’t all get that shot. The scouts are reporting there’s a whole host of demons down there in the Valley, so I’ll take a team of three with me to go after Corypheus while the rest of you deal with them.”

“So who gets the invites?”, Varric asked, fingering his crossbow. Even the normally laid-back storyteller seemed eager to engage their enemy.

Sera held her breath as she waited for the answer. As frightening as the idea of taking on Corpse-of-puss was, leaving Herah to do it without her was far worse. The Inquisitor was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she would fight with everything she had to keep her alive through this final battle.

“Cassandra,” Herah began, “You’ll take point.” Sera brightened a little bit at that declaration. The Seeker might be a stuck-up prissy pants, at least when she wasn’t sneaking off to read dirty books, but she was also a rock in battle.

“Dorian, you’re on barriers.” Sera liked the Tevinter mage as much as she figured could like, well, a Tevinter mage, but she couldn’t dwell on that, holding her breath as she waited to hear the last name.

“And Sera, you’re in charge of covering fire.” The elf exhaled and Herah grinned at her. “Come on, you didn’t really think I’d leave you out, did you?”, she asked, lowering her voice so that the rest of the Inquisition couldn’t hear her. “You’ve been talking about putting an arrow in this asshole for months now. This is your chance.”

She smiled back her lover, swallowing down her fear. “Definitely. Right in the heart, eh? If he’s got one.”

Herah chuckled. “Right there,” she agreed. The Inquisitor turned to the rest of the small group. “Everyone else, you just make sure to keep those demons off of us and we’ll do the rest.”

“We won’t fail you.” It was Blackwell who said those words. It wasn’t his real name, but Sera still thought of him as Blackwall. She was glad Herah had given him another chance after his past came to light. He might have fucked up pretty bad, but he was still a lot more fun than most people, and if trying to save the world didn’t earn you a break, then screw it, what did?

A few more steps brought them to the top of the ridge overlooking the Valley of Sacred Ashes. The sight was even worse than Sera had feared. Above, the rent in the sky seemed larger than ever, and below them, the ground was cracked and burned. Fade rifts dotted the landscape and bands of demons wandered about the blasted remains of what had once been Haven. And at the center of it all, she could see Corypheus, the Magister easy to identify next to the huge shape of his dragon. Fire flashed from his hands, and the Inquisition scouts unlucky enough to have caught his gaze screamed and died, their flesh melting from their bones.

Sera gasped, a sudden terror rising in her chest, and then she felt Herah’s strong hand squeeze her shoulder, setting her down. The archer turned, and her normal witticisms failed her. Instead, she whispered the only thing she could think of: “I love you.”

Herah nodded as she released her. The Inquisitor’s big, brown eyes were steel and her enchanted daggers glimmered in her hands. “Until the end,” she told Sera, “Now let’s go finish this.”

 

They’d succeeded in finishing off the dragon, at least after Morrigan softened it up for them, but Corypheus himself was proving harder to put down. The bastard kept magicking himself around the floating ruins of the castle, while his attacks were starting to wear them down. Dorian, in particular, looked close to his breaking point, sweat pouring off of his skin as he fought to maintain the group’s shields in the face of the ancient Magister’s onslaught, but everyone was feeling the strain. Even the normally indomitable Cassandra’s sooty face was tight as she tried to defend the rest of them, her strikes and blocks slower then they’d been at the start of the battle.

Herah rolled to her left, ducking under the beam of fire that extruded from Corypheus’ hand. The heat tingled above her bare head but she was unharmed, and before he could refocus, she charged, a sudden burst of speed propelling her behind her enemy. She drew her daggers across his armored flesh as she passed, and even while he tried to turn and face her again, Cassandra smashed her shield into his sternum and then followed it up with a blow from her long sword to his head.

Corypheus staggered, one of the few signs of pain he’d displayed thus far, but the weakness was short-lived. Ignoring the burst of fire from Dorian’s staff that impacted his shoulder, he engulfed Cassandra in a cocoon of red energy that her shield wasn’t able to block in time. The Seeker fell to her knees, her body twitching as she fought against the pain of the attack and seeing her friend’s anguish, Herah snapped.

The Inquisitor launched herself forward, driving both daggers up and into Corypheus’ back with such strength that even the massive creature was lifted half a foot off of the ground. A howl of rage escaped from his chest, and while her blades held him in place, Sera struck. A single, expertly aimed arrow flew from her bow, striking Corypheus in the breast.

He gurgled as his ancient blood flowed down his body, but the magic and hate that animated him were too strong to be easily undone. He whirled, wrenching the daggers out of his body with the violence of his motion. One of them tumbled from her grasp, but she held onto the other, gripping the blade even as a taloned hand crashed into her chest and dark magic flowed into her body. She grimaced as her muscles tensed, what remained of Dorian’s barrier crumbling under the attack.

Then Corypheus jerked. A second shaft now stuck out from between his shoulder blades and while he was distracted, Herah slashed his torso, forcing him to release her. Dorian unleashed another burst of flame, and this time, it struck home, the flesh of the Magister’s back boiling at the magic, and the Inquisitor knew that finally, his defenses were down.

Corypheus staggered backwards, and his orb flew from his grasp, hovering in front of him with lightning peeling off of it in waves. “Not like this,” he thundered as he tried wrestle the artifact back under his control. “I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages… Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you! If you exist… If you ever truly existed.. Aid me now!”

Herah didn’t wait for a reply from the heavens or anywhere else. Green energy crackled into existence around her hand, and she reached out with it, wrapping it around the orb. It flew from Corypheus’ clutches into hers, and the Magister crashed to his knees, now bereft of the source of his enhanced power. Grasping the sphere, she poured all of the power she could into it, and the artifact amplified her efforts, sending a massive beam of green light into the rift, illuminating the whole sky above them.

The empty remains of the orb dropped from her grasp and she turned back to Corypheus. The Magister reached out at her, his eyes filled with desperate hate, but it was an empty menace now, his power as shattered as the crumbling castle. She raised her hand, the power of the Anchor pulsing in the darkness, and snapped, “You wanted into the Fade? Then go there!”

Emerald energy enveloped Corypheus and as she focused her will through the mark on her hand, it tore him apart from the inside out. Nothing but a final scream escaped his lips as his body unraveled and whatever remained of it was ripped out of the word and deposited into the Fade. She didn’t have time to admire her handiwork though, as she was reminded by the feeling of a hand yanking on her arm and a voice in her ear.

“Come on, Buckles,” Sera barked. “This place is about to be seriously fucked.”

Only a few feet away from her, a chunk of rubble crashed to the ground, and she pulled herself together. Cassandra forced herself back to her feet, and together, the three women dashed out of the collapsing building. Dorian was closer to safety than they were and as they ran, he threw up a fresh shield, deflecting the smaller bits of rubble that rained down while they did their best to dodge the bigger chunks.

A harrowing minute of so later, they all stood outside what remained of the castle, their gazes alternating between the smoking pile of rubble and the dome of the sky, where the angry gash of the Breech had been replaced with a small scar of light. It was over, she realized suddenly. Somehow, unbelievably, it was over, and Herah really didn’t have any idea what to say about that.

Not everyone was equally dumbfounded. Besides her, there came a relieved giggle and Sera took her hand. “That,” she declared brightly, “Was bloody brilliant. We saved the world, and we didn’t even die.”

A smiled spread across Herah’s face as she squeezed down on her lover’s hand. What more could she, or any of them, have asked for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two more chapters to go after this. Victory celebrations! A new Divine! Smut! Thanks for reading this far.


	16. Keep Me Grounded

“Three cheers for the Inquisition!”

It was Scout Harding who offered the exuberant toast, but she was only expressing what most of them were thinking. Somehow, they had won, and as Herah gulped down the glass of wine Josephine had just handed her, she did her best to take in the enormity of the moment.

Iron Bull was similarly enthused, clasping Herah on the back and giving her a hearty, “Way to go, boss!”

She patted Bull’s shoulder. The other qunari had led the Chargers into the heart of the fighting in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, playing as large a role as anyone in keeping the demons away from her while she fought Corypheus. “Thanks,” she told him,”But it was a team effort.”

“Hah! That’s the truth,” he declared, never one for modesty. “You should’ve seen me with that big horned one. Cut him clear in half.”

“Only after I stabbed him in the back first, sir,” Krem pointed out, flashing the skeptical look that seemed to be his default expression when dealing with his commander. “After that, a blind farmer could’ve finished him off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bull chortled. “You would’ve been dead on the back swing if I hadn’t stepped in. It’s only too bad demons melt back into the Fade when you kill them, or I’d be mounting what was left of that thing on my wall.”

“I think you’re both forgetting Solas’ barriers keeping the lightning off of you long enough to allow for all that glory hounding,” Varric interjected. “And speaking of Chuckles, does anybody know where he got off to after the battle? I know he’s not exactly the life of the party, but he should still be here.”

Herah shook her head. “No. Leliana’s had some of her agents out looking for him, but he seems to have vanished into thin air. I don’t understand it.”

“He was never exactly one of the boys,” Bull commented. “I’m not surprised to see him gone now that the job’s done.”

“What about you?”, she asked. “You going to be gone as well?”

He snorted, his huge frame shaking with amusement. “As long as the Inquisition wants to keep paying the Chargers, we’re not going anywhere. Who else is going to get us into scrapes this good?”

“Probably no one,” she agreed. “I do have a knack for finding trouble.”

“Fortunately, you’re just as good at killing it when it does turn up,” Bull laughed, gulping down his tankard of ale.

Herah joined him, finishing off the rest of her wine. It was a good vintage, shipped in all the way from Antiva according to Josephine, but she didn’t want to drink too much. Their victory alone was enough to make her light-headed. “Be that as it may, a little help never hurt,” she told Bull. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me, but I think as the Inquisitor, I’m legally required to circulate.”

She only made it about three steps before she was stopped once more, this time by Cassandra. The former Seeker’s face broke into a rare smile when she saw Herah. “Congratulations, Inquisitor,” she told her. “This truly was a great victory for you.”

“Everyone wants to give me the credit,” she protested. “You were the one covering my ass the whole way through.”

“Not the whole way.” Cassandra took a slow sip of her own wine, her almond eyes narrowing with regret. “I seem to recall the first time we met, I threatened you with execution. It seems fair to say I was wrong.”

Herah grinned. At the time, she’d been angry at the accusations. She’d spent her whole life with people distrusting her because of her species and the way she’d been treated after the explosion at Haven felt like one more example of scapegoating. Now, she knew Cassandra better than that, as well as the burdens that came with command. “Don’t worry about it,” she told her. “I would’ve suspected me too in your place. It’s water under the bridge.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. Especially since it seems I will be remaining here at Skyhold for some time.”

Herah nodded. “Listen, about that… I’m sorry the election turned out the way it did. For what it’s worth, you had my support.”

“I appreciate your words,” the former Seeker reassured her, “But there is no need for condolences. Being the Divine would have been as much of a burden as an honor.”

“I know,” Herah agreed. Duty, not ambition had motivated Cassandra to seek the Sunburst Throne. “That’s part of why I thought you’d be the right person for it.”

Cassandra laughed. It was a rare sound and Herah enjoyed that her friend no longer had quite so many cares written on her long face. Perhaps it was just as well for her sake, that she hadn’t been elevated. It was hardly an easy life, especially for someone who disliked politics so much. “I suppose I am somewhat like you in that way,” Cassandra said. “I know you would not have chosen to be the Inquisitor.”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “But it seems to have worked out anyway.”

“It has. Better than I could have imagined.” Cassandra took another drink of her wine. “Enjoy the rest of the night, my friend. You have more than earned it.”

“Indeed.” Herah looked around at the word, and saw Leliana walking up behind them. “I think we all have.”

Herah turned back to Cassandra, who’s smile had grown strained. Things had been somewhat awkward between the two former Hands of the Divine over the issue of the election. “Can you give us a moment?”, she asked. “I need to talk to Leliana about something..” Cassandra nodded, making her way in the direction of Blackwall and Cullen, who were caught up debating which sword techniques were best suited to slaying Rage Demons.

“What did you want to discuss?”, Leliana asked. Superficially, her tone was friendly, but even though she had replaced her usual armored robes with more festive ones, the night’s merriment didn’t entirely reach her light eyes.

“I thought I should congratulate you on your election,” Herah offered.

“There is no need for false pleasantries, Inquisitor. I know you would have preferred that it was going to be Cassandra on the Sunburst Throne.”

Her eyes tightened as she consider how to reply. She knew little of Chantry politics, and Leliana had outmaneuvered her with the College of Clerics, a task made simpler by the fact that she hadn’t gone to Josephine for advice, not wanting to put her diplomat in the middle of the dispute.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t think you have what it takes,” she offered. “Your work with the Inquisition has been incredible. I’m just worried about what this job may drive you to do. What it might do to you.” She paused. “And you know she is too.”

Herah didn’t have to say who “she” was. The letter from Nissa had arrived just before they’d set off to face Corypheus. She was alive, but though she sent her love to Leliana, she didn’t know when she’d be able to return from the Deep Roads. From what little she’d written of it, her mission seemed extremely dangerous, but it was Leliana far more than herself that the Hero of Ferelden seemed concerned for.

“She isn’t here,” Leliana said quietly. “And we don’t know if she ever will be.”

“We don’t,” Herah agreed. “But whatever happens to her, she’s still worried.”

Leliana held her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Let us not dwell on this tonight. This, now, is your celebration.”

“Damn right it is!” Herah nearly jumped when she felt a hand pinch her ass, and her head jerked around to see Sera standing behind her. “Hey, Buckles,” her lover grinned. “I was starting to worry you’d forgotten about me.”

“Never. I was just saving the best for last,” she chuckled, pulling Sera to her for a quick kiss.

Leliana flashed a smile at the two of them, but the deeper loneliness behind it couldn’t be hidden. Separation, doubt, and the often-brutal work of a spymaster were a difficult combination for anyone to bear, and Herah could understand why Leliana had been so unhappy at times. “I will leave you two then” the bard said graciously. “Some of our more persistent guests appear to have Josephine trapped and she may require my assistance.”

With her gone, the Inquisitor returned her attention to Sera. The elf leaned up on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around Herah’s neck. The kiss was longer this time and in the heat of her lover’s mouth, she felt the stress of the last conversation melting away. People were staring at the display of affection, but she didn’t care, just running a hand through Sera’s short hair. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

A little blush spread along Sera’s cheek and she bent up, kissing Herah’s pointed ear. “I know something else you can’t do without me.” She paused before delivering the punch line. “Me. Can’t do me without me.”

Even though it was a silly joke, Herah felt a thrill run through her. It had been a long trip back from Haven with little privacy and when they arrived, Josephine had had this party waiting for them. She was ready for some alone time, and taking Sera’s hand, she led her lover through the crowd. Cheers and smiles greeted her as she went. For this one night, at least, her people were happy.

Sera certainly was, turning to the guests and declaring, “Hey, everyone, we’re going upstairs. We’ll be a while. Might need some warm up.” While everyone was trying to figure out how to respond to that, she shot Herah a smoldering look and added more quietly, “Not much though.”

It wasn’t easy to make Herah blush, but that did the trick. Hastily, she pulled Sera through the door that led to her chambers, closing it behind her before she had to hear too much of the crowd’s hooting. Once they were inside, Sera slipped away from her, scampering up the staircase and leaving the Inquisitor to give chase.

She caught Sera at the top of the stairs, scooping her up into her arms and spinning her around. “You’re mad, you know that?”, she laughed, a fierce joy swelling in her chest.

“Yeah,” Sera agreed. “Didn’t even drink too much either. Wanna make sure I remember tonight, yeah?”

“Then let’s make it memorable.”

Their next kiss was pure sex, her tongue gliding into Sera’s eager mouth while her hands caressed the length of her body. Slim legs wrapped tight around her waist, pressing the two of them even closer as Herah carried her lover across the room.

They tumbled onto the bed together, Herah careful to balance her weight off of the smaller woman as she settled in. She stared peeling off her partner’s tights, but when Sera squirmed underneath her, the Inquisitor was halted by the sound of fabric tearing. “Sorry,” she told Sera, letting go of the ruined garment, “I’ll have Josephine get you some new tights tomorrow.” She laughed. “I think this pair might’ve been held together mostly by prayer anyway.”

“Was perfectly good,” Sera protested as she shrugged out of what remained of the garment. “It had personality.”

“You’ve got personality,” she commented, sliding a hand along Sera’s torso before settling on one of her pert breasts. She bent down to take the other one in her mouth, but first, she added, “A really delicious… personality.”

There was no snappy comeback to that line, instead just a sharp gasp and a moan as Herah got started. She loved how responsive Sera was, how completely she threw herself into their love-making, and she wanted more. She wanted to savor everything their victory had brought, and so she took her time with those beautiful breasts, stroking and licking every last inch of them before making her way down Sera’s belly. There, too, she didn’t rush, covering the sides with her large hands while her tongue explored its taut muscles.

Beneath her, Sera’s legs spread apart and she whimpered, “Come on, Buckles. Gimme more.”

Herah cupped on of Sera’s inner thighs, running her hand up to, but not under her smalls. “I though we were going to be here a while?”

“We are,” she panted, “Cause, um, gonna go a few times, right?”

Herah raised an eyebrow in faux surprise. “Are we, now? Guess I’d better pick up the pace then.” She tugged off Sera’s underclothes, aided by an eager little shimmy, and tossed them aside. Between her legs, the elf was pink and glistening, an invitation she couldn’t resist. She started by tasting the edges of Sera’s wetness from her inner thighs before going to the source, sliding her tongue into her sex. Sera was thick and tart, and Herah could never get enough of the flavor.

After a minute though, Sera needed additional stimulation, and her hands gripped Herah’s horns, guiding her upwards. Practice had shown the Inquisitor how to tease out the round little bud of her lover’s clit easily enough and she covered the it with her tongue, lashing it with steady strokes.

“Mm, yes, ‘s good,” Sera mumbled, tightening her grip as she lost herself in the pleasure. The horns weren’t very sensitive, but Herah could feel just enough pressure through them to tell how turned on Sera was, and it made her clit twitch against her clothes. To her lover, she wasn’t the Inquisitor, or a scary qunari monster, but an exceptionally desirable woman, and she relished that feeling.

Sera’s hips rocked against her mouth, hungry for more, and Herah obliged, sliding a thick digit into her lover and pressing it along her swollen inner wall. She kept the two motions in tandem, sliding her finger in when she pressed down with her tongue and then pulling both back at the same time. Sera’s thighs squeezed around her head and Herah knew she was close. It only required a few more repetitions before the elf was collapsing, spilling her delicious release down over Herah’s mouth and chin.

She licked her lips clean with relish, a satisfied grin on her face as she looked down at her handiwork. Sera was usually so manic, but in the moments after she came, that energy was replaced by a beautiful stillness. Herah let her enjoy the afterglow, taking advantage of the break to peel off her own clothes. The elf’s eyes were half-open as she watched the show, just letting out an appreciative purr at Herah’s body.

True to her nickname, the outfit did have a large number of buckles, and by the time she’d finished stripping down, Sera had mostly recovered from her orgasm. She rolled up onto her knees, grabbing Herah and giving her a nice, long kiss.

“Lie back, Buckles,” she declared. “Saved the world AND did that thing with your finger… You’re getting the special treatment.”

Herah didn’t need to be told twice. She flopped backwards on the bed, linking her hands behind her head and spreading her legs to give her lover all the access she wanted. Nimble fingers began to stroke her body, but before Sera could really get going, something caught her attention. “What’s this?”, she asked, cocking her head. “Bed looks different.”

Herah bit her bottom lip, trying to remember words in spite of the throbbing in her sex. “It’s Orlesian. I thought if we can’t fuck an empress, we could at least fuck like one.”

Sera laughed at that. “Heh, like it.”

She started running her fingers over the intricately carved bed frame and Herah blurted out, “Glad you approve, but Sera, please…”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Wood’s nice, but you’re nicer.” She returned her hands to Herah’s chest, massaging her ample breasts. The brown nipples were tight with anticipation and when a soft tongue flicked over them, Herah couldn’t contain the groan coming out of her throat.

Thankfully, Sera could tell how turned on she was, because she didn’t make the Inquisitor wait long. A hand slid between her legs and when it finally spread apart her folds and pressed firmly against her swollen clitoris, Herah gasped sharply. It was as if all the stress she’d been carrying was concentrating itself in that one point on her body and then being released through it. Sera rolled the bud between her fingers and Herah gripped the pillows behind her, her arousal rapidly spiking.

“I love you, Herah,” Sera purred, her sincerity clear in her use of the Inquisitor’s real name. She only said it in moments like this, and the intimacy was an incredible turn-on.

Her hips heaved and she murmured back, “I love you too,” before Sera covered her mouth with her own, drinking in her desire as she unraveled. “Yes,” she panted when the kiss finally broke, “Oh, Maker, yes.”

Sera’s head was buried in her neck, licking and nibbling the sensitive skin there while she kept making firm strokes along Herah’s clit. “Go on, Buckles,” she purred, “Want you to feel it. Want to feel you.”

Herah couldn’t manage any reply other than a moan that turned into a scream as she was pushed over the edge, her clit pulsing hard against the digits caressing it as the ecstasy spread to the furthest reaches of her body.

Her orgasm left her panting, but it had scarcely ended when Sera flashed her best devilish grin. “Not done yet,” she declared, licking her lips. “Like I said, special treatment. It’ll be a while.” Her mouth began making it’s way down Herah’s body, and the Inquisitor let out a purr.

 _I’ll have to save the world more often,_ she thought to herself before pink lips closed around her nipple and she stopped thinking very much at all.

 

It was indeed quite a while later before they finally made their way out of bed. The first light of dawn was coming in through the windows by then along with a cool mountain breeze, and Herah slipped into one of her plush robes before offering the spare to Sera.

“Sorry again about your tights,” she told her.

“Don’t worry. You made up for it.” Sera pulled on the robe, her slim body disappearing into a garment sized for a qunari.

Herah grinned at the sight of her lover’s small hands barely poking out from the sleeves. “Maker, you look adorable.”

Sera snuggled into her arms. “That’s shiny,” she decided, looking Herah up and down with an approving eye. “You’re still you, yeah? I mean, they still say things about you. All that Herald stuff. But this feels really good. Like it always could. I just need you to stay you.”

Herah’s smile spread until covered her whole face. She’d worried about that too. Worried that becoming the Herald or the Inquisitor would change her in ways she didn’t like. Not anymore. She brushed a hand down Sera’s cheek. “You ground me, Sera,” she told her lover. “As long as you’re here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Sera smiled back, a quieter thing than usual. Her head was bowed and her eyes were lidded as she took in Herah’s words. Without saying anything in response, she stood, taking the Inquisitor’s hand and shuffling them across the room. The sky was whole now, only a faint scar of green light remaining to mark what Corypheus had done, and from the balcony, they had a perfect view of it.

“It’s pretty, yeah? We did that,” Sera mused but even while Herah nodded in agreement, her lover’s mood shifted and she giggled. “Let’s push the bed off the balcony.”

Herah cocked her head. “After I just got it? Think of the expense. Josephine would kill us.”

“You’re right,” Sera laughed. “Probably regret it anyway. We’ve got better things to do with that bed.”

“That we do,” Herah agreed. She was far from free of responsibilities, but they weren’t the crushing burden they’d once been. The future ahead of her was the farthest thing from what she’d ever imagined, but right then, it definitely looked as bright as the new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I obviously modified the ending scene with Sera, but I kept some of the best lines from the game. "You ground me," in particular, gave me the name for this story. It was just a perfect moment where Bioware had Herah say exactly what I wanted her to say, summing up how I felt about this relationship.


	17. Victoria

“Victoria!”

“Victoria!”

“Victoria!”

Over and over, the crowd chanted the name that was not her name, a never-ending roar that filled Leliana’s ears.

 _Not Leliana_ , she reminded herself. _Not anymore. Victoria is my name now. The one I chose to bear as the Divine. The one that history will remember me by, though whether as a hero or a tyrant, it is too soon to say._

It was customary for the new Divine to lead a procession through the streets of Val Royeaux, and Leliana had chosen to walk, eschewing the elaborate carriages many of her predecessors had used. It was a decision she was now second-guessing. The summer’s heat was intense and her robes of red and white cloth weighed heavily on her as she waved to the crowds.

All around her, the eager throngs pushed against the rows of soldiers who lined the streets, trying to get a closer look. After all of the traumas that Thedas had just endured: the mage rebellion, the destruction of the Conclave, the war against Corypheus, the people were hungry for celebration and her election served that purpose.

Would they have cheered as loudly for Cassandra, she wondered. What did the crowd really know of the woman who now stood at the head of the Chantry? Her Orlesian background gave her a touch of local appeal perhaps, but mostly they knew that she had served the Inquisition, the force that had healed the sky and vanquished the monsters.

All her life, that had been her destiny, to live in the shadow of others. Marjolene’s protégée. The Hero of Ferelden’s lover. The Divine’s Left Hand. The Inquisitor’s spymaster. She had never minded. She’d been at home in the dark, but that was over now. It was her name, her chosen name anyway, that people would know, a thought that both excited and terrified her.

“Victoria!”

“Most Holy!”

A thousand voices and more called out to her, yearning for an acknowledgement or a blessing on this sacred day. Artisans come out from their shops to watch the parade. Peasants in the best of their plain garb, travelled from the country to be witnesses to history. Nobles too minor to have been invited to the Grand Cathedral for her coronation, trying to catch her eye. Even elves from the alienage, allowed their freedom for the day at her insistence. Some of the more traditionalist Grand Clerics had complained over that. Soon, she knew, they would complain far louder.

“Most Holy!”

“Victoria!”

“Leliana.”

It was quiet, the whisper of her true name amid the roars, but she couldn’t have missed it. Her head whipped around, scanning the crowd, and for an instant, she saw a ghost. A thin face, similar to many of the other elves, and yet utterly familiar. A glimpse of hair, almost the same color as her own, hidden beneath a cloak. Sharp green eyes that were fixed on her. Leliana tried to mask her shock, but in spite of her efforts, her jaw dropped and her heart caught in her throat.

_Nissa. My love. Can it be you?_

She blinked, trying to make sure what she’d seen was real, but when she opened her eyes once more, whoever had been there was gone. The face had been swallowed up by the crowd and she had no choice but to march on.

 

The rest of the procession passed in a daze. Years spent wearing the mask of duty let her smile, and wave, and mouth the words that were expected of her, but her head was far from the crowds, back in a small tent on the Ferelden plains in the midst of the Blight. Even when the new Divine had re-entered the Grand Cathedral, shedding her long train of lesser clerics and attendants, that moment remained fixed in her mind.

 _It couldn’t have been her_ , she told herself. _The heat and the stress of the day must have gotten to me. It’s not as if my real name is a secret. I heard it and it made me see Nissa’s face among the crowd from the alienage._

“Is everything all right, Most Holy?”

She was shaken out of her thoughts by the sound of Mother Analia’s concern. The kindly Ferelden cleric had been one of Justinia’s most trusted aides and a friend of Leliana’s when she was the Left Hand. She was glad that the Mother had accepted her invitation to stay on, managing her household affairs. She would need people she could trust close to her, especially once the scope of the changes she had planned became known.

“I am fine,” Leliana told her, pulling her hood back and letting the long, red hair trapped beneath it breath. “It has simply been a very long day. And these are heavier than they look.”

Mother Analia gave her a knowing look from beneath her own hood. “You will become accustomed to them.” It was unusual that Leliana had not already. She was the first Divine in centuries to have reached the Sunburst Throne without having been a cleric beforehand. Not since Amara III, the sadistic sister of the Orlesian Empress, had it happened, and she was hardly a role model.

“I imagine I will,” she agreed, “But for now, I think I would just like to change out of them for a while.”

“Of course, Your Perfection. You do not have any further appointments until the reception this evening.”

_A hundred dignitaries, all there to offer their congratulations, but in truth, eager to gauge her intentions._

“Very good. I wish to be undisturbed until then.”

_I need to clear my head. I will have to be focused tonight, not fixated on a woman who isn’t here._

“As you wish.” Mother Analia gave her a warm smile before turning away, but for an instant, Leliana thought she saw a devious gleam in her big, blue eyes. It was odd, but a mystery for another time, she decided. Now, all Leliana wanted was to rest for a little while.

She walked down the corridor that led to her private chambers, unfastening the ties that held her robe together as she went. With a weary hand, she pulled open the door, but when she looked inside, all thoughts of rest vanished from her mind. There, in the middle of her sitting room, flesh and blood, was the ghost. Nissa had abandoned the plate she used to wear for a green travelling cloak layered over dark breeches and a shirt of light scale armor, but no matter what she wore, there no mistaking her lover’s face.

“Nissa,” she whispered, scarcely able to speak. “Is it really you?”

“Who else would it be?” Her Warden was trying to play the suave lover, but the hitch in her husky voice was unmistakable.

It was a sound Leliana had waited too long to hear, and she barely remembered to kick the door closed behind her before they fell into each other’s arms. Their mouths met, lips parting, as hunger overpowered every other thought. Nissa was a headier drink than any wine, and by the time the kiss ended, Leliana’s head was spinning.

“I saw you earlier,” she gasped while her hands set to working unfastening Nissa’s cloak. “At the procession, but you left without saying anything.”

“I had to see you,” Nissa told her, her voice cracking, “But it wasn’t the right time to talk.”

“How did you get in here?”, Leliana asked even as she shrugged out of her heavy robes, leaving her in a thin white shift that she had thoroughly soaked with sweat.

“Mother Analia,” Nissa grinned. “Being the Hero of Ferelden still counts with some people.”

 _I will have to find a suitable way to thank her,_ Leliana mused, before another searing kiss made her forget about anything else.  

“I need to see you,” Nissa said, “All of you.”

The want behind her words made Leliana tremble, and she let her shift fall off of her shoulders, leaving her clad only in underwear she was rapidly dampening with her arousal. She felt like a woman for the first time in years, not a spy or the Divine, simply a lover reunited with her beloved.

Leliana slid her panties down over her hips, exposing the last of her to the warm air as well as to Nissa’s gaze. Her skin was sticky with perspiration, but neither of them cared. The Warden reached out, her fingertips, brushing along Leliana’s breastbone and over the swell of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered. “In the Deep Roads, sometimes thinking about you was all that kept me going.”

Those fingers kept sliding downward, caressing the smooth plane of Leliana’s stomach, tracing the curve of her hip, tangling in the short hairs just above her sex… She felt as if she might collapse without more stimulation and she pleaded, “Touch me. Take me. I’m yours.”

“As am I.” Nissa leaned in closer, and her tongue ran along Leliana’s neck even while her hand cupped the bard’s aching sex. Even that broad touch was enough to make Leliana gasp and when the Warden’s fingers parted her folds and caressed her clit, her knees buckled. Nissa’s strong hand caught her back before she could fall and she said, “Let me take you to bed.”

“Maker, yes,” Leliana murmured, and the two of them stumbled out of her sitting room and into the bedchamber together, unwilling to break their contact for very long. The Divine’s huge four-poster bed with its lavishly embroidered curtains was a far cry from the bedroll where they had first made love, but what mattered to her was that the same woman was there to share it.

She lay back on the silken sheets and spread her legs, an unmistakable invitation that Nissa accepted eagerly. Her hand slid back between Leliana’s legs, and when they teased the entrance to her sex, the Warden gasped, “Oh, darling, you’re so wet for me.”

Leliana’s hips pushed forward, desperate to take Nissa deeper insider her. Those long, slim digits pressed against the front wall of her pussy, and her body clenched down, instinctively desperate to hold on to what she had missed for so long. She couldn’t find any words, her moans of pleasure pushing aside every other sound. Nissa’s thumb went back up to her clit, rubbing it in time with her thrusts. The sensation was so intense Leliana wanted to close her eyes, but she made herself keep them open. The image of her Warden standing over her, her eyes ablaze with love and desire, was too precious to give up.

“Just look at you,” Nissa whispered. “I can’t believe I left you for so long.”

That words sent a thrill through Leliana almost as intense as her Warden’s touch. Her back arched, the last threads of her self-control failing her faster than usual. Nissa noticed, and she knelt down at the foot of the bed, keeping her fingers inside, but pulling her thumb back and replacing it with her mouth. Soft lips enveloped Leliana’s clit and as Nissa’s tongue ran over it, the bard came undone. One scream after another escaped her, the bliss of her orgasm spreading out from her sex to every other part of her body, her release spilling out past the Warden’s hand

Nissa stayed where she was for a time, eagerly drinking in Leliana’s climax, and easing her through its aftershocks. Only when the bard’s body finally relaxed did she stand back up, looking down at Leliana with a reverent smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Leliana purred. “I needed that more than words can say.”

Nissa’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I know, my love. And I needed to feel it.”

“That is not the only thing you need, ma coeur. And you are still wearing far too much for me to give it to you properly.”

The haste with which Nissa complied was impressive. She pulled her armored shirt up over her head and threw it to the ground before yanking off the undershirt beneath it. Her lower garments she was even hastier with, pulling down her smalls along with her breeches and boots and kicking them aside. Leliana wasn’t surprised to see fresh scars on her body. There was a faint red line running along her hip and down her leg and a smaller, but clearer one on her collarbone. It wasn’t easy to leave such marks given Nissa’s potent healing magics, and the thought of the stories that must have been behind them made Leliana’s heart ache for a moment.

But only a moment, given what she had in front of her. “Come here,” she urged, and Nissa fell into her arms. Leliana just started kissing. She wanted everything, and she ran her lips over her Warden’s face, her neck, her body… anywhere she could reach. Strong fingers tangled in her hair, tensing every time her mouth made contact with bare skin.

Leliana settled temporarily on the elf’s small, perfect breasts, lavishing attention on the nipples with her tongue while her hands cupped the soft flesh. Nissa was seldom very vocal when they made love, but when a whimper escaped her throat, Leliana knew without a doubt how much she’d been missed. She slid a leg in-between Nissa’s thighs, letting the Warden grind against her. With every motion, more slickness was left on Leliana’s skin and the bard teased, “It really has been too long.”

“Maker, it has,” Nissa panted. “Please. More.”

“Surement,” Leliana cooed. One hand slid between their bodies, seeking out the small, hard bud of Nissa’s clit. Her Warden rocked desperately into her touch, pleading without words for as much contact as she could find. There would be a time for slow, gentle lovemaking, but it would come later. Now, they simply needed this too much.

Leliana increased the pressure, and when she felt Nissa’s other hand clutch at her ass, desperate for any purchase to keep her steady, she told her, “Go on, ma coeur. Come for me. I want to feel you body tighten, see the look on your face…”

Her words were too much. Her Warden threw back her head and her hips bucked frantically against Leliana as she found her release. The bard’s leg was left wet by Nissa’s orgasm, and all she could do was hold onto her lover as she shivered in her arms before slumping down on top of her.

Her weight was reassuring and at first, Leliana just stroked her long, copper hair, bathing in the joy of the moment. The overwhelming power of their desire was retreating though, and eventually, she couldn’t stop herself from giving voice to the question that had forced it’s way to the surface.

“Are you staying?”

It wasn’t the most romantic thing to ask, but she had to know. She could never regret what had just happened, but if this was only temporary, she couldn’t let herself sink too far into bliss either.

“If you want me to, I can,” came the reply, and the bard’s heart soared. “My mission was a success, Leliana. I’m free of the Calling.”

“How…”, she began.

“It’s… a long story,” Nissa told her, her voice suggesting that there was a great deal of pain behind it. “And a complicated one. But for now, know that I’m not a Warden anymore.” She took a deep breath, seeming to set aside the matter before glancing around and taking in their surroundings. “And speaking of career changes,” she added, her face brightening. “It’s hard to believe that I really just fucked the Divine.”

“Blasphemer,” Leliana said with a laugh. Nissa always did have a certain irreverence that, though it could annoy her at times, she also found charming.

Nissa raised an eyebrow, mischief now definitely behind her eyes. “Really? Does that mean I’m going to be punished, Your Worship?”

“Only if you don’t do it again.”

Nissa chuckled at that but then she added, “Seriously, though, now that you’re Divine, isn’t there a vow, or something involved? Could this get you into trouble?”

A part of Leliana winced at the question. It would be nice to be able to ignore the real world and simply be two people happy to be reunited. Life wasn’t that easy though. “There are… restrictions,” she admitted, “Though they are more often observed in the breach. Many Divine’s have taken lovers. As long as the relationship is discrete and no pregnancies result, it is considered best unremarked on.”

“Well, at least that second thing isn’t exactly a worry for us,” Nissa observed, “But the first one might be trickier. People may notice if I’m sneaking in and out of your chambers all the time.”

“Then you will need a good reason to be in my company,” she agreed, a joyful smile starting to cover her face. The Maker, it seemed, had gifted her with a perfect opportunity. “You need a job,” she told Nissa, “Just as I find myself in need of some help. Perhaps I could interest you in becoming the new Right Hand of the Divine?”

Nissa shook her head and her lips curled into a little smile. “There is something vaguely appropriate about that, I think. After all, when we first met, you were working for me.”

Leliana kissed her enthusiastically. “I think it might be an interesting, having you under me for a change.” She flipped them over so that she lay on top of the Warden, running her hands over her lithe body. “So to speak.”

“Mm, it does seem like this could have its benefits,” Nissa agreed.

“It won’t be easy work,” Leliana said, more seriously. “The Chantry needs to change and there will be resistance to those changes.”

“You know that difficult doesn’t scare me.” Nissa placed a hand on Leliana’s back. The bard had scars of her own there, the residue of Marjolene’s betrayal still visible, but her lover had never shied away from them. “I just want you to promise me that whatever your enemies do, you won’t let them push you into going too far yourself.”

“I know you’re worried, but I can handle it,” she insisted, perhaps too quickly. “I am no child when it comes to the Game.”

“I know that, but…” Nissa got a distant look in here eyes as she recalled a darker time in her life. “When we first met, I’d just had all of this responsibility dumped on me…. Fighting the Blight, making all of those alliances, leading the Wardens… and it sent me to a really dark place. You know what I did with Connor and the demon. I thought I needed the power, but you pulled me back from the edge and helped me to see that I could stop the Darkspawn without losing myself in the process. Let me return the favor.”

Her instinct was to stay on the defensive, to insist that this was not the same situation, but in her heart she knew Nissa was right. Ruthlessness was necessary sometimes, but she’d been letting it come too easily to her, especially since the Conclave was destroyed. “All right,” she agreed. “There is no one I would rather have help me bear these burdens.” She brushed her hand over her lover’s cheek. “And the first burden we have to bear is a reception this evening. Everyone wants to meet the new Divine, after all. And now, I imagine, her Right Hand.”

Nissa grinned. “How long until then?”

“Oh, several more hours,” she replied with a sultry smile, easing down into her lover’s arms and enjoying the way they pulled tight around her. “We have a little time yet. And a great deal more catching up to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of Keep My Feet on the Ground, no matter what it might seem. There are several more Trespasser-based chapters for you to enjoy. Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, and left kudos. I really appreciate the feedback. I may return to these characters at some point, and in the meantime, I'm working on a few other Dragon Age projects: The Seeker and the Nightingale (Cassandra/Leliana), and Beyond Understanding (Mage FAdaar/Sera and Cassandra/Morrigan), the later with the excellent Rae D. Magdon. Check them out if you're so inclined, and thanks again for reading.


	18. Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story was done, and then Trespasser happened, and I definitely needed a few more chapters to bring everyone’s story up through there. I figure on 4 or so more chapters total, covering the events and aftermath of that excellent DLC, should get it done. (Seriously, if you haven’t yet, you should really give it a try) Anyway, here we go again. I hope you enjoy it.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna make me wear a sodding dress.”

Sera’s complaining failed to get a rise out of Josephine. The diplomat instead continued to make adjustments to the white gown she’d procured for the occasion, while offering her opinion that, “You look lovely, Sera. I’m sure the Inquisitor will appreciate it very much.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Just finish up with it, yeah. Haven’t got all day.” As much as she protested though, she really did want to look nice for Herah. Most of the time, Sera was really good at not caring what anybody else thought of her, but this was different. Both the day and the woman she was sharing it with mattered, and so she stopped her complaining long enough for Josephine to complete her work.

“There,” the diplomat proclaimed, rising to her feet. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? As Orlesian dresses go, this one is positively simple.”

“Probably true,” Sera mumbled. Indeed, Josephine’s own navy blue dress had a great deal more ruffles and layers and stuff that Sera had spent her life studiously avoiding learning about. “Stupid Orlesian ponces with their giant, stupid gowns.”

“Come now, dear,” Viviane declared, “It is a great honor to be married by the Divine herself, and we should not keep her waiting.”

As the statuesque mage spun around, Sera took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at her. Unlike most of the Inquisition, Viviane had never stopped disapproving of her relationship with Herah, but as of today, she could officially suck it. Sera got the girl; Viviane could keep her stupid mud wraps or whatever she’d been up to with Herah at that spa thing.

As they walked towards the ballroom, Sera felt a flutter of nervousness in her breast. Even though the rest of the Inquisition bigwigs had agreed to keep things sort of simple, being at the center of a fancy to-do like this was still enough to unsettle her.

 _It’s for Herah,_ Sera reminded herself. _You don’t get to marry somebody like her without some dumb ceremonies and stuff._

That thought made her feel better. She did want to marry Herah, more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, and not being stupid anymore meant accepting what that involved, even if it was hard.

They reached the ornate double doors, where a pair of Inquisition soldiers in formal uniforms threw them open. Waiting inside were all of the old friends who had gathered for the Exalted Conclave: Varric and Thom (She’d tried calling him Blackwall but he’d insisted), Bull and Dorian, Cullen and Cassandra, plus a few of the Chargers and other Inquisition members who were here. She knew all of them except for a red-headed elf chick in a grey and gold doublet, but as Josephine and Viviane filled in behind her to complete the group, Sera only had eyes for one person.

For the ceremony, Herah had gotten a new dress uniform, this one dark blue and tan, and somehow, ridiculously, it made her look even better than the red one had. Well fitted but just a little snug in the right places, it emphasized her toned frame and full breasts nicely enough that Sera had to check to make sure she wasn’t drooling. Once she met Herah’s gaze though, she saw that her lover was just as entranced by her, her big, brown eyes hungrily drinking in Sera’s appearance.

 _Bloody well worth to wear a dress if it makes her look at me like that_.

Somehow Sera managed to make it down the aisle without tripping all over herself. When she reached Herah, the Inquisitor clasped her hands in her much larger ones, and immediately, she felt calmer. Herah was so solid, her rock in a world that liked to go to pieces if you didn’t watch it carefully.

The two of them took up their positions in front of Leliana. (As far as Sera was concerned, that would always be her name, stupid Chantry rules be damned. Also, she would never stop looking funny in that hat, but just for today, she was gonna try not to laugh)

“Of all the gifts the Maker has bestowed upon us,” Leliana began, “Perhaps the greatest is love. It exalts our moments of happiness. It lifts us up when we are weak. And it can bloom even when we least expect it. It is such a union that we are gathered here today to celebrate. Few could have predicted that these two people, Herah Adaar and Sera, would find each other and forge such an enduring union in the face of tragedy and war, but none who know them deny what a wonderful thing their love has been.”

“It has sustained them through hardship and victory, in the Valley of Sacred Ashes and the Deep Roads, though the months of war and the years of peace, and today they affirm that they want it to carry them through all the days that the Maker sees fit to bless them with. It is truly a joyous occasion, and I know they are pleased that those who have meant so much to them are here to celebrate alongside them. My words alone could never entirely do justice to this moment, though, and so, if you will join me, I have selected some verses from the Canticle of Transfigurations that may better serve.”

“Oh, Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights…”

As Lelina launched into the scripture-y stuff, Sera noticed how much happier she sounded. She’d been in a perpetual bad mood back before leaving to become Divine, but now, she seemed like she might’ve gotten laid some time this year.

Once the chanting was over, it was time for the vows. Josephine brought up a green and gold cloth that displayed a pair of rings she’d scrounged up somewhere, one of them actually big enough to fit around Herah’s thick finger. _That can’t have been easy._ Sera had to admit that though she might be a bit of a fancy toss, Josephine could be pretty bloody handy too.

Herah picked up one of the rings. “From the first day I met you,” she began, “I knew you were special. You’ve been by my side through the good and the bad, and no matter what was going on, you helped me to stay true to myself. I can’t imagine doing any of it: Closing the Breech, being the Inquisitor, or going though the rest of my life without you.” She held out the ring. “What I’m saying is, I love you Sera, and I want you to be my wife.”

“Bloody hell yes,” Sera blurted out before she could think of any more eloquent response. Herah slipped the ring onto her finger, and then it was the archer’s turn to come up with something to say. She’d been thinking about what it should be ever since Herah said “yes,” but she still wasn’t sure. This part was never easy for her and so she just went with what she felt.

“You make it make sense,” she told the woman who held her heart. “Lots of times, the world is screwed up and stupid, but then I remember that it’s got you in it, and that makes things a whole lot better. Like there’s a reason for all of it. I love you too, Herah, and I want you to be my wife.”

“Oh, yes,” Herah replied and Sera picked up the other ring, slipping it onto her right hand. _Not the one with that frickin’ mark. I’m not sharing. This hand’s just for me._

Leliana smiled. “Since you are in concord, then under the light of the Maker and His prophet, the Blessed Andraste, it is my privilege to pronounce you wed. You may now kiss.”

And kiss they did. Sera threw herself into Herah’s arms and the Inquisitor lifted her up, spinning her around as their lips pressed together. The cheers of the crowd filled the room, but the thrill that ran through Sera’s body drowned them all out. _It’s real. She’s really mine, and I’m really hers. Forever._

***

No sooner had the ceremony ended then well-wishers begun streaming towards the newlyweds and Herah found herself quite glad that Sera had insisted they not turn this into, “A big, stupid, court thing.” The Inquisitor could put aside her desire to peel her new wife out of that dress and kiss every inch of her body long enough to accept some heart-felt congratulations from friends but having to listen to an endless parade of insincere Orlesians pretend that they gave a damn would have been intolerable.

“The mighty Inquisitor and the carefree rogue. Not a bad little story, if I can offer my professional opinion.” Varric grinned. “Of course, one of you should have turned out to be a princess or something, but I guess that mark on Horns’ hand will have to do instead of royal blood.”

“Do not pay him any heed, Inquisitor,” Cassandra interjected. “It was perfect.” Most people would have been surprised to see the that the Seeker was chocking up, but Herah, who knew of her love of the cheesiest romance novels Varric could pen, was not most people.

“Thanks, Cassandra.” She clasped her friend on the shoulder with one hand, while her other stayed linked with Sera’s. She wished she could be touching more, and giving up that contact was more than she was willing to do.

“Yeah, we appreciate it, Grumpy,” Sera chimed in, before adding, “I bet it’ll be you up here pretty soon.”

Cassandra’s eyebrows raised and her forehead furrowed in surprise. “I? Surely you jest.”

“Why not?” Sera smirked. “Maybe broody old Cullen. Or Varric. He’s a big-deal, Viscount person now. And you two bicker so much, must mean something, yeah?”

Varric for once was stunned into silence while Cassandra’s face turned about six shades of red all at once. “I… That is a ridiculous suggestion,” she protested. “Now, if you will kindly excuse me…”

She hurried away in the direction of the drinks, and Herah did her best to suppress a snicker. “That was kinda mean.”

“But most amusing.” Leliana was smiling as she walked over to them, far more broadly than Herah remembered her doing in the old days. “And perhaps instructive. Cassandra needs all the help she can get with finding time for herself.”

Herah gave her a knowing grin. “Finding time for yourself, huh? I’m thinking that’s what you’ve been doing lately.”

“You know me too well, my friend.” She gave a nod in the direction of the red-headed elf, and the woman walked over to join them. “Inquisitor, may I present the Hero of Ferelden, former Commander of the Grey, and current Right Hand of the Divine, Nissa Surana.”

“She just likes to list my titles.” Nissa gave them a bemused grin, but though her face currently showed good humor, the iron will beneath it was unmistakable, especially to someone who had born some of the same burdens. This was a woman who had been through a great many battles to get where she was.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nissa,” Herah told her, extending her hand.

“You too, Inquisitor.” Nissa’s grip was strong for someone her size, her hands calloused from long years of fighting Darkspawn. “Her Perfection has told me a great deal about you.”

“Good things only, I hope. So, are you sticking around for the Exalted Council.”

“No, these days I leave the politics to my better half. My last grand council ended in a duel.” She smiled at Leliana, who gave her a small nod. “I’m just passing through here on my way to round up some stray Templars who escaped Corypheus. When I heard about this wedding, though, I figured I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet the woman who looked out for Leliana while I was indisposed.”

“Hey, no worries. She did the same for me.”

Sera laughed. “Yeah, red’s got a mean knife. Figure you must be equal rough and tough, keeping her as your girl.” She gave herself a skeptical look. “‘Course, you’re pretty red too, so I guess I might need a better nickname.”

Nissa smirked. “I’ve got a few for her myself, but they might not be appropriate to tell other people.”

Leliana shot her a glare that could cower an Arishok, and Herah chuckled. “I think we should probably keep mingling before we get you stabbed, Nissa.”

“Perhaps true. And congratulations again, to both of you. Love isn’t easy to get a hold of, especially not for people in our world. Take it from me; you should appreciate what you have when you have it.”

Just then, the peel of the Winter Palace’s bells broke through the chatter of their guests, and as the sound filled the hall, Sera gave her hand a squeeze. “Steal away a minute?”, she asked. “Need to take this in a bit, just with you.”

Herah nodded in the direction of a nearby pair of wood and glass doors. “I think the balcony should work fine.”

They stepped outside, and were immediately treated to a spectacular view of the palace gardens bathed in morning sunlight. The bells were clearer out there as well, a rich ringing that seemed to mirror the happiness Herah felt. Whatever happened at the conclave, whatever she might have to do to make sure the Inquisition survived, she would have this day to give her strength.

“Sodding mad this,” Sera said, shaking her head. “Palace bells for us.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Never would’ve thought I’d have those when I got married.”

“Hear that,” her wife declared to no one in particular. “That’s our bells, nobbers. We frigging win.”

She spun into Herah’s arms and the Inquisitor held her close for another, longer, and more private kiss. This one was just for them, and so she let it get a bit naughtier, reaching down with one hand to caress Sera’s ass through the silky fabric of her dress. The gesture earned her a pleased yelp and a hand of her own, this one trailing down the side of her breast.

“How much longer you figure we gotta talk with people?” Sera asked, running her other hand along the length of one of Herah’s horns. “’Cause I got plans for you. Lots of real good plans.”

“Oh, not too much longer, I think,” Herah agreed with a laugh. The world might be heading back towards its usual state of trying to fall apart, but surely, they deserved a little time for themselves first.


	19. Holding on Tight

“He’s invulnerable. Use your Mark!”

In response to Dorian’s cry, Herah staggered towards the giant Saarebas, but even at a distance, Sera could see that she was in agony. Green lightning was pouring off of her arm and when she raised it up, her scream was one more of pain than rage. Whatever Herah was feeling though, she still got the job done. The energy of the Mark leapt out from her hand, wrapping around the gigantic, wounded qunari and pulling it apart much as it had once done to Corypheus.

No sooner had the mage been disintegrated then Herah collapsed to her knees, her good hand clutching at her electrified wrist. Sera wanted to run to her wife, but the best she could manage was a limp. One of the Pride Demons had torn up her left leg, and she had already gone through her entire supply of healing potions. Nor were the others in any better shape. Cassandra was bleeding from a dozen cuts while Dorian seemed unable to even get up, still flat on his ass from the crushing blow to the torso he’d taken from Saarebas. Herah might have been the healthiest of them all, if not for the fact that the Mark on her hand was killing her.

_No. It’s not gonna kill her. It can’t. It just fucking can’t._

She reached Herah just as her wife pulled herself back to her feet. Sweat was pouring down the Inquisitor’s face, and every word she spoke had to be forced out through clenched teeth. “Sera…. I’ve got to get to Solas now.”

Sera bit her lip, trying to make herself focus. Her leg hurt like hell, but if they had to keeping moving, she wasn’t giving up. “’Kay then, Buckles. Let’s go.”

Herah shook her head weakly. “No. Stay.” She reached into a pocket of her armor and took out a regeneration potion. “Here. Last one left…”

Her trembling hand passed it to Sera, and the archer took from her it even as a fresh spasm of pain hit Herah. She shook as the energy of the Mark spilled down her arm, staggering away from Sera lest she hurt her too.

“I can’t,” Sera protested, her voice catching in her throat. “Won’t leave you.”

“You… you have to. The Mark…. It could kill you too if I…”

“Buckles…”

Before she could make any more protests, Herah bent in for one final kiss. Sera tried desperately to hold on to the feeing of her lips, to not let her wife slip away, but it was only a few seconds before Herah pulled back. “I love you, Sera,” she whispered, before turning and jogging in the direction of the eluvian as fast as she could under the circumstances.

“Herah, no…”

Sera was paralyzed as Herah grew more distant. She shouldn’t follow, couldn’t really on her bum leg, and yet she was unable to do anything but stare at the departing form of her wife. Cassandra, though, didn’t let her stay caught in her trance. “Sera, give me the potion,” she said, her voice all business, “Dorian needs it.”

Sera did as she was told, handing the potion over to Cassandra before letting herself collapse to the ground. Taking the pressure off of her injured leg helped ease her physical pain, but that only let her focus on how terrified she was.

Cassandra opened up the vial and poured its contents down Dorian’s throat. The characteristic light of the healing magic filled him, bathing the whole area in a glow that immediately reduced the throbbing in Sera’s leg.

Dorian sat up, shaking his head. “If this is what winning looks like, I think we should consider other alternatives.”

“On that, we can agree,” Cassandra replied.

“Where is the Inquisitor?”

Sera opened her mouth, but for once, no words would come back out, and so it was left for Cassandra to answer him. “She has gone through the eluvian to try and find Solas before it’s too late. I… do not think that she has much time left.”

“Fucking arse biscuit!” Sera snapped. “Don’t say that! She’ll be okay. She has to be.”

“You have to prepare yourself,” Cassandra said, her voice calm but also far more sympathetic than usual, “This may not end well.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” Sera kept repeating the word like a mantra as she tried to process what was happening. These past few days, she’d been insisting that everything would be okay, that her wife’s hand was just responding to the dumb elf-y magic in the mirrors, that it wasn’t that bad. But it was that bad, and she’d couldn’t lie to herself about it anymore.

All her life, she’d known that the world was a stupid, shitty place where bad things happened to people who didn’t deserve it, but for the last two years, she’d started to believe maybe it didn’t always have to be. Maybe even people like her and Herah got a chance to have happy endings. And now, everything they’d built was being taken away.

No. She wouldn’t give Herah up. Not without a fight. Ignoring the lingering pain in her leg, she pushed herself back to her feet.

“The Inquisitor said to wait here,” Cassandra reminded her, but Sera shook her head.

“Bollocks with that.” She wiped aside the tears that were gathering around her eyes. “I’m not leaving her.”

“But the Mark… If it should explode…”

Sera clenched her fists. “Then I go with her, but she’s not going alone. That’s what the vows meant, right? We stay together, even when it’s the worst times.”

To her surprise, Cassandra only nodded. “I have always underestimated you, Sera and I am sorry for that. If you truly mean to do this, I will come with you. She is my friend, too.”

“And mine.” Dorian had begun to rise as well, using his staff to prop him up. “Perhaps I can shield us from some of the blast if the worst should happen.”

“Right, then.” Sera sucked in a deep breath, trying very hard not to think about the worst and whether it had already happened. “Let’s go do this.”

The three of them staggered together towards the eluvian, slowed by their injuries but healed enough by the potion to make the trip. Indeed, Sera scarcely felt the pain in her leg as she walked. All she could think of was the hurt that had filled Herah’s brown eyes. If that was the last thing she ever saw there, the last thing her wife ever experienced…

She felt utterly helpless. She would fight anything for Herah, no matter how big, and weird, and terrifying their enemies were, but this was something she couldn’t shoot with her bow. All she could do was hope. Hope and be there for the woman she loved, no matter what it cost.

Their party passed through the eluvian, and as they emerged on the other side, they were confronted by an unexpected sight. Everywhere, stone qunari stood motionless, and Sera realized as she looked at their expressions that they weren’t statues but scared people who’d been petrified.

_Don’t any of you be Buckles. Don’t you bloody dare._

Thankfully, none of them was, and as Sera made her way out of the forest of statues, she finally got a clear look up the path ahead. And there she was. She was slumped down on her knees, and her back was turned, but Sera would know the curve of those horns anywhere. Dashing in spite of the pain it cost her, she ran to Herah’s side, and just before she reached her, she saw it.

Herah’s right hand was clutching at her other shoulder, but beneath it, starting somewhere above the elbow, the bulk of her left arm was gone. Abandoning any restraint, Sera threw her arms around her wife, clutching onto her as if she was the only thing in the world that was real. Sera wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but right then she didn’t care. It didn’t matter where Solas was, or who had turned those other qunari to stone, or really even how Herah had lost her arm. Her wife was alive, and right then, it was enough for her. Sera clung tightly to her, covering her face in kisses. “Right here, Buckles,” she said in-between her tears, “Not going anywhere again. Never ever.”

Herah hugged her back with the arm she still had left and when Sera looked into her face, she could see pain etched into every line of it. “Oh, Sera,” she said weakly, “Maker, it’s good to see you.”

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra and Dorian had caught up with them, and the Seeker was starring in shock at Herah. “Are you…”

It sounded as if her throat was raw when she replied softly, “I’m alive.”

“What happened?” Dorian asked.

“It was Solas. Fen’Harel. They’re the same person. He took the arm.”

The others were taken aback, but Sera couldn’t make herself worry about all that ancient elf crap. Not now. Gingerly, she touched Herah’s shoulder above the missing limb. “Does it hurt?”

“Like absolute hell at first, but it’s been getting better. It’s not bleeding at least.” Sera looked down, and indeed there was no blood on Herah’s sleeve except a bit on the outside, but she was pretty sure that had come from somebody her wife had stabbed. “He said it was killing me,” Herah added, her voice becoming steadier as she kept talking. “That this was the only way to stop that from happening.”

“It is certainly better than the alternative,” Dorian agreed.

“Can you walk?” Cassandra asked. “We need to return and tell the others what’s happened, but if you cannot make it, I will go back and send help to you.”

Herah rose, but her legs still looked unsteady beneath her. “No, I can make it.” She interlocked her fingers with Sera’s, and the archer squeezed down tight, reassuring her wife that she was still there. “Come on. We’ve got a lot to tell everyone, and not a lot of time.”

***

Herah winced slightly as Vivienne examined the remains of her arm. Drinking a healing potion once they’d returned to the Inquisition’s rooms at the Winter Palace had dulled the pain, but the area was still tender. Sensing her hurt, Sera squeezed her thigh a little tighter, a protective gesture Herah appreciated. Her wife hadn’t left her side since they’d gotten back, and she was glad of it. Not since getting their asses kicked at Haven had she felt this vulnerable.

“It seems to be a clean cut, Inquisitor,” Vivienne reported. “And I can find no trace of the Mark remaining. It has been completely excised.”

“Well, I guess that’s good, all things considered,” she said with a grimace. It was strange having Vivienne do this, she realized. Once, it would’ve been Solas who treated her, but now, he’d become the one who’d caused her pain. In a way, he always had been. If he hadn’t arranged for Corypheus to find that damn orb of his, none of this would have happened.

“Bloody right it’s good,” Sera agreed. “Glad it’s gone. Always said that stupid elf-y crap was bad, and now it almost did for you.”

“It didn’t though,” she reassured Sera. _Even if it has cost me dearly. I wonder if Leliana could use a spare enchanted dagger. One is all I need now._

“Inquisitor,” Cullen interjected, “I’m loathe to even bring it up at a time like this but the Council is still deliberating and I’m not sure how much longer Josephine can hold them off. We have to tell them what our next move is going to be.”

“Sod them,” Sera spat. “Bunch of poncy, useless shits, leave us to do all the real work and then bitch about how we do it. They want our bloody castle, they can come and take it.”

Vivienne’s reply dripped with contempt. “Leaving us to fight among ourselves, while this Dread Wolf plots the world’s undoing. Very sensible.”

Surprisingly, it was Cassandra who stepped in to her wife’s defense. “So you suggest that instead we disband the one force that has proven effective at combating the chaos of the last few years? I, for one, would not be so quick to lay down our arms.”

As the arguments continued, Herah took a deep breath, trying to pull herself out of the emotions of the moment and consider their situation more clearly. She understood Sera’s anger, shared it even. When the Exalted Council had started, “Go ahead and try it,” had been her feeling too. The Orlesians had almost let Corypheus destroy them because they were too busy playing their damned Game to notice, just like Teyrn Logain would’ve allowed the Blight to consume Ferelden while he made his play for power.   What right did any of these people have to condemn or control the Inquisition?

And maybe she’d been arrogant too. After beating Corypheus, crushing the Jaws of Haakon, and exploring the farthest reaches of the Deep Roads, she’d started to believe the Inquisition was invincible but if there was one lesson she could take away from today, it’s that no one was. Not Corypheus, not those old elven “gods” Solas had imprisoned, and not her. She might have changed the world, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have to deal with it too.

“Enough.” The sudden firmness in her voice quitted everyone else down, Sera and Cullen, Vivienne and Cassandra all turning to look at her. “You made me the damn Inquisitor, so I’m the one who gets to make this decision.”

“Do you have one?” Cassandra asked.

“I do. We’re keeping the Inquisition together, but we’re going to place it under the control of the Chantry. Of the Divine, more specifically.”

Cullen seemed surprised. “Are you certain, Inquisitor? I know that you and Leliana have had your differences…”

“We have. But here’s the thing. Sera is right about most of the nobles. Half of them are too dumb to herd nugs if they hadn’t inherited the job, and the other half would knife their own mothers for a little more power.”

Sera smirked at that, and even Cullen cracked a smile while she continued, “If we just get rid of the Inquisition and leave dealing with Solas to them, we’re done for. But I don’t want a war with them either, not with this new threat on our doorsteps. We can see that, but I don’t trust them to do the same. This avoids the fight. Leliana may have her share of enemies, but the Chantry is something everyone can live with, and it’s always had a military arm. Now that the Templars are gone, having the Inquisition replace them will make sense.”

Herah paused, rubbing her remaining hand over her head. “Every time one of these crises has come up in the last few years, it’s needed the right person to stop it. A Grey Warden like Nissa to beat down the Blight. The person with the damned anchor on their hand to heal the Breech. And this one… I don’t know where this thing with Solas is going, but right now, it’s a shadow war being waged in the dark by spies. I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t think of anyone better than Leliana to lead that fight.”

Cassandra nodded, a rare smile on her face. “That was quite persuasive, Inquisitor. I will admit, I did not think you so well versed in politics.”

She gave the Seeker a wry smile of her own. “Well, I’ve been doing this damned job for more than two years. I like to think I learned a few things in there somewhere.”

“Indeed you have,” Vivienne agreed. “Come, let us inform the Exalted Council of your decision.”

Herah rose to her feet, and as she did, she looked over at the woman who remained glued to her side. Sera had never wanted to be included in the decisions she had to make as the Inquisitor, but Herah still wasn’t sure how she’d take this one. “You good with this?” she asked. “I know it’ll be a big change for us.”

“No worries, love,” Sera replied without hesitation. “You think this is right, I’ll back you every time.”

“Well, it’s good to know you’ll stick with me. Somebody has to cover my flank now that I can’t quite do it anymore.”

Sera gave the hand Herah still had a hard squeeze. “Always, Buckles. Like I said, I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

Herah smiled, her steps a little bit lighter as they continued towards the council chambers. Her whole world might have been turned upside down in the last few hours, but a least there was one thing she could still hold onto.


	20. New Tricks

Herah sucked in a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. She’d always felt comfortable doing this, never doubting her own skills, but that was back when she was whole. When she had two hands.

Sera didn’t seem to share her apprehension. “Come on, Buckles,” she asked, “What’cha waiting for?”

“My hand to grow back.” Herah tried to laugh after she said it, but even to her own ears, the sound was forced and unconvincing.

“You’ve still got one,” Sera replied. “‘Sides, you’re -what’s it called –ambidextrous, yeah? So touching all the right bits shouldn’t be a problem.”

That was at least partially true. Long years of knife fighting had left Herah equally good with either hand, but she was still used to having both of them. “I don’t know,” she hesitated. “It’s not the same.”

Sera seemed to realize that Herah was genuinely distressed, and she came over to give her a kiss. “Hmm, s’ true. But you’ve got a tongue, yeah? We can start with that.”

In spite of her nervousness, Herah felt a bit better. There was something endearing in Sera’s insistence that they would be able to make this work, and she nodded.   “That’s true, cutie. I’m just saying that… Hell, I don’t quite know what I’m trying to say. I guess just that it may not be easy.”

“Doesn’t have to be. You’re worth it. Now get comfortable. It’s our last night here an’ all that.”

Herah settled into the bed, trying to do as she been told. Certainly, the accommodations were nice enough. You could say what you wanted about the Orlesians but they did know luxury, and the massive bed in their suite at the Winter Palace was eminently comfortable. Still, her nervousness wasn’t going to be banished by a feather mattress and a silken comforter, and at first, it was hard to take her usual pleasure in the sight of Sera stripping.

Her wife pulled off her tights, top, and small clothes without much ceremony, tossing them in a pile on the carpeted floor. Even though Herah was used to the view, it had not lost its power. As much as she acted like she didn’t care about her appearance, Sera was quite beautiful; her slim, well-toned body, messy blonde hair, and enthusiastic smile were enough to cheer Herah up no matter what else was going on.

The feeling didn’t last long though. Once Sera was naked, she hopped up on the bed, and Herah went to meet her. Unfortunately, she forgot that she was missing a hand. All she managed to do was awkwardly grab at her wife’s hip with the one she had left, sending Sera tumbling onto the bed.

“I’m sorry.” Her face was turning red. “It’s only been a few days. I still feel like it should be there and when it isn’t, I mess up…”

“Hey, ‘s okay.” Sera rolled up next to her. “We’ll figure it out. No rush.”

“All right then. Let’s give this a go.”

Sera scampered on top of her, straddling her torso, and Herah placed a hand on her wife’s hip. There were, she supposed, advantages to being so large. Even one hand was enough to brace the elf, and once they were positioned properly, she started to run it over her body. The warmth of Sera’s skin was comfortingly familiar, and yet what Herah was doing also reminded her of what she’d lost. Once, she would’ve palmed a breast in one hand while caressing a hip with the other, or massaged Sera’s back while tangling her fingers in her blonde hair. Now, though, she had to limit herself to one thing it a time, and it didn’t feel right.

“Damn it,” she muttered, and Sera stopped moving on top of her.

“What’s wrong, Buckles? That felt nice.”

Herah shook her head regretfully. “My instincts are all off and it’s throwing me. I’m sorry.”

Sera bent down, grabbing her head for a long kiss. “Don’t do that,” she insisted when it broke. “Don’t keep saying sorry. You don’t have to get it right the first time. It’s like the regular first time. Usually a mess that, but it gets better eventually.”

Herah managed a regretful laugh at the though of her first, awkward fumblings behind a barn many years earlier. “True that, but even then, at least I knew what my own body did.”

“I know what your body does,” Sera declared with a grin. “Lemme remind you.”

She went to work peeling off Herah’s blue and tan uniform, and the Inquisitor did her best to help. Between the two of them, they managed to get her stripped naked without too much difficulty, but once she was undressed, Herah couldn’t help looking at the stump of her left arm. The skin at the end of it was smooth, as if she had never had two hands in the first place. _It’s just too damn weird._

“Stop that,” Sera insisted when she realized what Herah was starring at. “Don’t worry about that stuff. Think about this, now, with me.”

Without further preamble, she lowered herself down, wrapping her lips around one of Herah’s large brown nipples. Sera’s mouth formed a tight seal while her tongue flicked back and forth over the tip, a combination Herah always found irresistible. Her back arched slightly, and her hand cupped Sera’s head, stroking her hair appreciatively.

Sera’s hands weren’t idle either. The archer ran them up and down Herah’s body, playing with her other nipple, caressing her shoulders, and even stroking her long, black horns. “You’re still you, Buckles,” she murmured in-between planting kisses on Herah’s breast. “Still feel right. Big, and strong, and bloody wonderful.”

“Sera…” She couldn’t think of what else to say, and so Herah settled for moaning her wife’s name before laying back into the softness of the bed.

The familiar heat of the kisses and touches were certainly relaxing. Herah didn’t try to get too involved yet, just using her one hand to stroke her wife’s head while she kept her eyes shut. _Focus on what you’re feeling. Let everything else go._

It was indeed hard to worry about anything when that wonderful tongue was exploring the planes and curves of her body. Sera was as energetic as always, devouring one area before moving on to the next, and it wasn’t long before Herah felt those nimble fingers probing against her entrance. She knew she wasn’t as wet as she should be, but Sera didn’t comment, instead setting to work on correcting the situation.

When Sera went to caress the ridge of her clit, the touch was lighter than usual. The teasing caresses made her hand grip her wife’s hair tighter, but at the same time, her phantom arm twitched, wanting to fist itself in the blankets with fingers she no longer had.

“Fuck,” she snarled. “It’s still off…”

“’S okay,” Sera reminded her. “Got all night for this. Not giving up on you.”

Her wife slithered downwards, leaving a trail of kisses on Herah’s abdomen before her lips joined her hand at the juncture of the Inquisitor’s legs. Sera’s mouth sought out her clit and the warmth and pressure against her most sensitive point made Herah gasp. For the first time that night, her hips pushed forward, her body giving itself over to what she was being offered.

“That’s it,” she groaned, her voice low and hungry. “You always know what I need.”

“Damn right,” Sera mumbled around Herah’s clit, her voice sending fresh shivers through the sensitive point.

When she resumed what she’d been doing, it wasn’t just her mouth that Sera used. A pair of fingers pressed up against Herah’s sex, and the Inquisitor found that she was now entirely wet enough to accept them. Her body relaxed, taking pleasure in Sera’s initial thrusts, and it wasn’t long before the elf was able to add a third one. A slight curl pressed the digits against Herah’s sensitive front wall, and as they slid in and out of her, her worries receded further and further away.

“So good,” she murmured, “So bloody good.” Sera was pushing deep inside now, hitting all the spots Herah liked best, even while she resumed sucking on her clit as well. The Inquisitor’s inner muscles started to tense, her sex pulsing around the fingers penetrating it, and it wasn’t long before she was on the brink of losing control.

“Almost there, aren’t yah, Buckles,” Sera purred, bringing a fourth finger up to her entrance. Now the stretch was enough to burn, the qunari’s sex completely filled by her wife’s hand, but it was a good ache, a low, throbbing pleasure that pushed out everything else she’d been feeling. Her stomach tensed, and she pushed back hard against the thrusts, hungry for everything she could get. Groans turned to screams, and then a final, broken moan of Sera’s name as everything went white.

The spasms that ripped through Herah brought almost as much relief as pleasure. The anxiety and self-doubt she’d been wrestling with ever since she lost her hand drained from her at last, replaced with waves of bliss. The elf seemed to relish every second of her climax, lapping away eagerly while it drew on, fucking every last bit of tension out of her.

Even once Herah’s body had finally spent itself, Sera didn’t pull out. She slid up along the bed, bringing her face to face with the Inquisitor, but her fingers stayed buried inside, making a few final strokes. “Needed that, right? “ she asked in-between planting kisses on Herah’s mouth. “Never felt you like that before.”

“Oh yeah,” Herah agreed, nodding weakly. Her head felt clearer now. It was difficult to be stuck quite as far up your own ass after coming that hard, and she was filled with a fresh resolve to properly thank Sera for the help. “So, I’m guessing you want a turn too,” she said once full sentences were again within her grasp.

By way of an answer, Sera slid her fingers out of Herah, sucking each of them clean in turn. The whole time, she kept her gaze fixed on the Inquisitor, eying her with undisguised lust.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Herah bit her lip, looking Sera’s naked body up and down. That lithe frame, flushed with desire, was just so damned inviting that it made her heart ache. There were so many places she wanted to touch, to enjoy, to bring pleasure to, and she had only one hand to work with. It wasn’t enough. Unless… _Of course_. _That’s it._

“Lay back,” she ordered, a new authority now filling her voice.

Sera must have enjoyed the way Herah sounded, because she spun around, flopping backwards to rest her head against the pile of pillows at the top of the bed. “Sure thing, Buckles,” she declared, a devilish smile on her face.

“Good. Now open up your legs.” Between them, wetness was glistening on the pink folds of Sera’s sex and Herah licked her lips at the sight. “Maker, I love seeing how much you want me.” Sera’s face flushed, and Herah kept going. “Look at how hard your nipples are.” She ran her hand over the flat of her wife’s stomach, teasing the undersides of her breasts. “I want to see you touch them for me.”

The tips of Sera’s fingers slid over the little, pink points, accompanied by a groan. “Keep doing that,” Herah told her, while she laid down at the foot of the bed. The sweet, rich smell of her wife’s arousal filled her nostrils, and with Sera’s breasts taken care of, she used her one hand to spread the elf’s thighs still further. She took her time with what came next, nibbling on the soft flesh around her sex without touching it, and it wasn’t long before Sera was panting above her.

“Come on, Buckles,” she pleaded, “Need more. Need you. Now.”

“Then spread yourself for me.”

Sera rushed to comply, two fingers parting her folds and giving Herah a clearer view of her engorged clit. She didn’t go for it quite yet though. Instead, her tongue pushed at Sera’s entrance, and the elf’s back arched in response, grinding herself against Herah’s mouth. Above her, Herah’s could see her wife’s other hand cupping her breast, massaging it while she was eaten out. She could have stayed there all night, just enjoying Sera’s sweetness, but once she’d had a taste, the Inquisitor moved upwards.

Sera’s clit was on clear display for her, and when her tongue slid along its length, her wife screamed. “Bloody fucking hell, yes. Do it more.”

Her words drove Herah onwards. As much as her own climax, this was what she had needed. With Sera bucking above her, her voice screaming obscenities and her thighs pressing around her face, Herah felt whole, in control despite what she’d lost. Each stroke of her tongue coaxed fresh wetness to spill out onto her chin, and it only made her hungrier. She stroked Sera’s clit hard with her tongue, feeling it throb with each stroke.

Her wife’s body began to tense beneath her, and Herah’s hand covered her other breast, squeezing it roughly. It was only seconds later that Sera fell apart completely. Her thighs clenched around the Inquisitor’s head, and she cried out, high and loud and long. Herah’s tongue pressed down against her twitching clit, wanting to take in Sera’s pleasure for as long as it lasted. Only once the elf’s breathing had slowed did Herah tilt her head up towards her, licking her lips clean of the copious liquid her wife had left there.

“Good job, Buckles,” Sera purred, stroking her horns affectionately. “Knew you could do me nice with that tongue.”

“And a little assist from an extra hand or two,” Herah added with a wry smile. She wriggled up the bed, drawing level with Sera once more. It still felt weird not having another arm to hold her wife with, but the limitation no longer overwhelmed her either.

“Heh, yeah,” Sera chuckled while Herah brushed the disheveled strands of her out of her face. “Certainly glad to help with that part.”

She nuzzled up into the crook of Herah’s shoulder, and the Inquisitor wrapped the arm she did have around her wife’s sweaty body. “I knew you would be,” she agreed. “Through all the shit we’ve had to deal with, I’ve always been able to count on you.”

“You always will,” Sera said emphatically. “I don’t care if you’re the Inquisitor or if you if have a big, glow-y hand or not. You’re the one I want.”

Herah bent down, inhaling the sweat and sex of her wife’s scent. “I never doubted that, not for a moment. I only… I want to be good enough for you. To be the woman you fell in love with, not the broken shell of her that you pitied.”

“Hey,” Sera insisted, “Don’t say stupid shit like that. You’ve got a good heart and a great ass, two hands or not.”

Her words were accompanied with a squeeze of said ass, and Herah let out an undignified squeak followed by a laugh. “That’s good to know.”

“Plus,” Sera added, “Even with one hand, I bet you can still fight and fuck better’n most people.”

“Just in case, I think I should keep practicing those skills. Especially that second one.”

“We’ll do that then,” Sera agreed, moving her hand up along Herah’s spine. “Still got the rest of the night for a start.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Herah grinned, giving her wife’s pert butt a little squeeze of its own. “After all, you’re never to old to learn a few new tricks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a while to get this chapter out; it's really been kicking my ass and I hope you think it came out okay. As always, your comments are appreciated. There's only one more to go after this, featuring more of Leliana and her Warden.


	21. United

_They had the first two entrances to the warrens well covered. Nissa and Velanna rained elemental death down on the Darkspawn who swarmed out, while Oghren led the junior wardens in cutting apart any of the creatures who survived the initial onslaught. But there was a third entrance. Hidden behind rock and shadow, it led out directly into their vulnerable right flank, and from it, a howling swarm of Shrieks and Hurlocks emerged._

_Eleanor was the first to fall. A jagged blade bit into the blonde scout’s side, cutting through her light mail with sickening ease. She managed to spin around, her dagger slicing open the Hurlock’s throat, but that only created an opening for the Genlock she’d already been engaged with. The creature’s knife pierced her eye, and she didn’t have even the time to scream before she died._

_“Pull back!” Nissa screamed, straining to make herself heard over the chaos. “Regroup at the embankment!”_

_It was too late for Firal though. The Dalish warrior hadn’t even made it to his Joining yet, and his inexperience was the death of him. He stumbled as he retreated, and the Shrieks were on him in seconds, claws ripping through soft flesh and spilling his blood all across the cavern floor._

_Nissa raised her sword and summoned the lightning, but the Darkspawn had caught up with her too. The blast caught the lead Hurlock and ran through his body into the two behind him, but plenty more were there to take their place. She barely parried the first thrust in time, and as she fought her way backwards, a sea of blades were flying at her. Only her armor saved her from a stroke aimed at her side, but even the exquisitely enchanted mail couldn’t take an infinite number of blows. With a wave of her hand, she summoned an aura of cold around her body, making the Hurlocks fall back, but the respite was only temporary. Far behind them, she could see the glow of magic forming around a Genlock conjurer and she knew that things were about to go from bad to worse…_

Nissa awoke with a sharp gasp. The room felt 20 degrees too warm, and she hurled the silken sheets off of her body, panting. _It was just a dream_ , she reminded herself as she looked around her bedchamber, focusing her gaze on the richly lacquered wood and the paintings hanging on the wall, sure signs that she was in the apartments of the Grand Cathedral in Orlais and not the Deep Roads.

It wasn’t the comfort she really wanted, but it would have to do. After all, it wouldn’t be appropriate for the Right Hand of the Divine to be spending her nights in her mistresses’ chambers. Even though she and Leliana were working side by side again, their private time had to be carefully rationed. Most of the other clerics knew of their relationship, but indiscretions could still be used against her beloved. Or at least that had been the case. After today, everything would be different and that thought was enough to banish the last of Nissa’s shivers.

Rising from her bed, she threw off underclothes damp with night-sweat as she made her way to the bathroom. The servants had already drawn her bath and a flicker of magic heated it up to the temperature she liked. Her body eased into the water, the warmth washing off her lingering tension even as it cleansed her skin. Even through the water, she could see the old scars that marked it, reminders of the battle she’d dreamt of and a hundred more. There weren’t many people who could say that becoming the Right Hand of the Divine had made their lives safer, but Nissa was one of them.

The clothes she put on after her bath were another reminder of the life she’d left behind. There was no uniform for her position as the Right Hand, and just as Cassandra had kept her Seeker’s garb, Nissa still wore the grey and blue. She eschewed the Grey Warden’s griffin insignia; after all, she was no longer a member of the order. Still, the suggestion of who she’d been never hurt. Leliana’s reforms had made many enemies, and they should all remember who stood by the Divine’s side.

Strapping on her sword, Nissa walked out of her quarters only to find that she had a visitor waiting for her. Leliana hadn’t donned her ceremonial robes for the day’s ceremonies yet, instead wearing a simple white and gold dress that showed off more of her body’s shape than the more formal garb did.

Before Nissa could comment on that, Leliana grabbed her for a kiss, running her hands through the elf’s long red hair. It was a good, deep kiss, that kind that shot shivers down her spine, and also the sort they rarely indulged in where anyone might see them.

“You’re feeling rather bold this morning,” Nissa teased, tracing her fingers down Leliana’s neck.

“Soon enough, it will not matter. Before then though, I thought you might want to join me for breakfast.”

She nodded. “I’d love to.”

Leliana linked arms with her, and when they stepped into the Divine’s quarters, located only a few corridors away, a breakfast of eggs, fruit, bacon, and porridge had already been laid out for them. Nissa took the seat closest to the door, digging in lustily.

“You know we have the time to do this properly,” Leliana said with a smile.

“Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess. Out in the field, you eat when you can.”

“I remember.” Leliana reached across the table, brushing her hand over Nissa’s cheek. “I will always cherish the time we spent on the road together.”

Nissa kissed her palm. “So will I. But I’m glad that’s not our life anymore.”

Leliana gave her a knowing smile. “It is for the young I think. What about today? Are the all the security preparations in place?”

“They are. Nobody’s going to disrupt the proclamation. At least as long as your fellow clerics don’t make a scene, that is…”

“Never fear,” Leliana laughed. “I have vetted those who will be joining me on the dais most carefully. Mother Esmeralda has been discretely seeing a former Templar captain for years, and Mothers Vera and Giseine are more than just colleagues. All of them are staunch supporters of this reform.”

“What about Mother Analia? She doesn’t seem like the type to have a lover on the side.”

“No, but she is a firm believer in the authority of the Divine and an old friend. She can be relied on as well.”

She smiled. “I should know better than to doubt you.”

They finished the rest of their breakfast in an easy silence, but their eyes were never far from each other. The Divine was no longer the young lay sister Nissa had fallen in love with so long ago, but this morning, it seemed as if she’d shed most of those years. There was a twinkle in Leliana’s eyes and a glow to her skin that made Nissa feel as if they were still sitting around a campfire on the road to Denerim. She shared the excitement; after today, there would no more hiding.

“Are you ready for what’s about to happen?” she asked as they rose from the table. “No matter how carefully we manage the announcement, there’s going to be a backlash. Priestly celibacy has a long history, and you know what your enemies are going to say.”

“That I am merely a randy woman, destroying the sacred laws of the Chantry to gratify my own base lusts?”

Nissa laughed. “Well, I was going to try and put it a bit more delicately, but yeah, that’s the essence of it.”

“They may well say that,” Leliana agreed with a devilish smile. “And I can’t deny that this is what my heart… and other parts desire. But my head agrees. The Chantry has been too cut off from the world, and celibacy is part of that separation. Marriage will help to connect the clergy to the people we’re supposed to be helping instead of leaving us wrapped up in our own petty arguments.”

With that declaration, she turned in the direction of the bedroom, shrugging out of her dress while she did. Her ass, now covered only by a lacy pair of white panties, swayed invitingly as she walked, and Nissa couldn’t resist reaching out to give it a little squeeze.

“Maker, you’re beautiful,” she purred. “Maybe I could help you gratify a few of those base lusts before the announcement.”

“It will have to wait until tonight,” Leliana told her, though there was a definite note of regret in her voice. “I appreciate the attention but I was not putting on a show for your benefit. I have a number of meetings before the ceremony, and I really should look the part of the respectable Divine for them.”

“All right,” Nissa agreed, giving the back of her lover’s neck a final kiss before turning to leave. “I’ll see you up on the podium, then. And back here tonight, to celebrate.”

“Bien sur,” Leliana laughed, a sound as musical as any Nissa had every heard. Waiting was something they had plenty of practice with, and a little more couldn’t hurt now.

***

The autumn day the Maker had given her to make her announcement on was clear but quite crisp and for once, Leliana was grateful for her heavy ceremonial robes. She was also grateful for all of the friends who had made the journey to Val Royeaux for the occasion. As she walked towards her the center of the dais, she gave a nod to Herah and Sera, there leading a small honor guard of the Inquisition’s soldiers. The couple’s prominence was deliberate; the symbolism of the Inquisitor’s marriage was important on this day. Nissa was there on the dais too, of course, standing to the right of the Divine’s throne as Leliana took her seat. She looked magnificent in her gleaming armor and grey and blue doublet, everything the Right Hand should be, and everything her Divine wanted.

More of their friends were out in crowd. Of her fellow former advisors, only Cullen was still serving the Inquisition, but this day he was joined by Cassandra and Josephine, the three of them standing in a cluster near the front of the crowd. Vivienne was nearby too, showing her support despite the strain that Leliana’s pro-mages reforms had created between them.

Further towards the back of the crowd were some of Nissa’s surviving comrades from the Wardens. Leliana did not know Sigrun or Nathaniel Howe well, but Nissa had always praised their courage. Thom Rainier of course she was far more familiar with, though a part of her would always think of him as Blackwall. And of course there was Zevran. Herah and Sera had run into the assassin on their honeymoon in Antiva, and he had turned up in town two days ago, declaring that he had no intention of missing out when the entire clergy of Val Royeaux was freed from their vows of celibacy all at once.

Whatever their reasons for coming, however, Leliana was glad to see them. As much as this day was about doctrine and policy, it was also an intensely personal one, and it felt right that at least some of the people that she and Nissa had journeyed with would be there to share it.

After an appropriate interval, she rose, signaling the crowd for quiet. The buzz among them settled down gradually, and once it had, Leliana delivered the customary opening blessing, invoking the Maker’s grace on all present, and asking for His approval for the Chantry’s work.

_Whether I have it or not, though, it’s too late to turn back now._

“Brothers and sisters,” she began, echoing the words she had said at the Inquisitor’s wedding, “We come before you today to speak of love. Of all the gifts the Maker had given us, it is perhaps the greatest. We talk often of His love, which He feels for all the world, but we should also cherish the love for one another that He causes to grow in our hearts.”

 _Do I still believe that?_ she wondered as she spoke the words she had practiced until they came almost automatically. _That the Maker’s love surrounds us all. Surely not in the simple way I did as a sister in the Lothering Chantry, to be sure. I have seen and learned too much to accept the Chantry’s doctrines as blindly as I once did, nor am I so sure that the Maker ever spoke to me. But Thedas needs the Chantry to bind us together, and I still have enough faith to do what that requires._

“For too long,” she continued, “The Chantry has acted as if these two loves could not be reconciled. That we had to chose between our love for the Maker and our love for each other. But this was wrong. Did not the Bride of the Maker herself have a mortal husband as well as a celestial one? Malferath betrayed her, true, but she did not betray him. It was the one who lacked faith in the Maker who proved unable to love his fellow humans properly, not the one whom He had chosen.”

“Indeed, it is our love for those who walk through this life beside us that gives us the strength to serve the one who’s return the faithful await. It was true in the time of Andraste, and it is no less true today. We know in our heart that our loves are a source of strength, not of weakness. And it is with that knowledge that we proclaim what the Conclave has ratified…”

_Ratified after cajoling, and bribes, and threats in few particularly obstinate cases, but ratified never the less._

“…A change to the Ordinances of Sacred Procedure. Henceforth, all who serve the Maker in His Chantry shall be free to marry whomever they chose, just as any other of his children may do.”

A wave of applause greeted her words, and Leliana paused to let it pass. Here, at least, the enthusiasm was genuine. Word had leaked out of the Conclave as to what the day’s proclamation would be, and most of those in the great square were in favor of what she and her fellow clerics had done.

Once their cheers had settled down, Leliana continued. “We know that this change will seem strange to some, and we emphasize that this matter is left to the heart of each Reverend Mother. Those who wish to marry may do so, but those who wish to continue to focus their devotion solely on the Maker are free to do so as well.”

“Make no mistake however. Change is coming to the Chantry, and as benefits the holy office we occupy, we shall be the first example of that change. For many years, Nissa Surana, who was once Commander of the Grey and is now the Right Hand of the Divine, has been dear to our heart. Duty has often kept us apart, but no more. It is our great pleasure to announce that we have offered, and she has accepted our proposal of marriage. Those whose hearts the Maker has joined should not have to hide their love, and now, we and many more like us, no longer will. Together in our devotion, we will be stronger, and the Chantry will be stronger for it.”

She finished and, on cue, Nissa stepped forward, joining Leliana at the front of the stage. Her beloved’s fingers interlaced with her own, and the two women raised their arms, even as the crowd erupted with applause, louder than before. The hero who had defeated the Blight remained tremendously popular across Thedas, and even had she not held Leliana’s love, the Divine could have made no better choice to win support for her revolution.

Even amidst the roar of the crowds, her friends’ cheers could still be heard, starting with Josephine and Cassandra, and Leliana smiled at the two of them. They knew better than most what this moment meant to her, not just as Divine Victoria but as a woman who had spent far too much time without the one she loved. Her eyes darted over to Nissa, and long years of study let her see that the mage was thinking the same thing that Leliana herself was. _Let us savor this moment_.

The years to come would be hard. However warm a reception her announcement was receiving today, she had no shortage of enemies, both within the Chantry and outside of it. Worse still, Solas now schemed to throw the whole world into chaos, and many of Thedas’ elves, made bitter by long years of discrimination, were joining with him.

But that was all right. Life was not meant to be easy, least of all for people like them. And though Leliana had told many lies over the years, the words she had just spoken were not among them. There was no better way to meet the battles that were coming than with Nissa by her side, and now, at last, she could say that simple truth before the world. Let those who would oppose them tremble; for now and always, the Nightingale and the Warden were united.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the new (and final, since there's no more Inquisition content coming) end to Keep My Feet on the Ground. Thanks for reading and please leave some feedback if you're so inclined.


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